


I Live So That I Will Never Die

by sweetNsimple



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), Trinity Blood
Genre: Also inspired by an image on Tumblr, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Barry and Leonard are in love, Cisco needs protecting, Crusniks, Discrimination, Everyone Has a Past, F/M, Happy Ending, Harry and Cisco are in love, Harry tries to fix his mistakes, Hurt Barry Allen, Hurt Cisco Ramon, Hurt Leonard Snart, Hurt/Comfort, Lycans, M/M, Metahumans, Minor Violence, No Smut, Romance, See Author's Notes for Link to image and more information on Trinity Blood, Supernatural Logic, Trinity Blood Crossover, Vague Rape Scene, Vampires, Werewolves, will add more tags if needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7274149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry Allen, just a lowly CSI from the HCCPD – Human Central City Police Department, part of a tri-branch that included the VCCPD and the LCCPD (Vampire CCPD and Lycan CCPD) – was one of the few that took arms against the skirmishes.  With no explanation of how he did it, he brought criminal metahumans to light, and stood by the less criminal and guiltless metahumans as they made publish speeches of how, yes, they did exist, and, yes, they recognized that a spike in crime rates was due to other metahumans, but bad existed in every group and they should not all be judged by the actions of the few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Eternal Other

When the particle accelerator had malfunctioned, unexplored or simply unknown matter had genetically altered an estimated less than one percent of Central City’s population.  Of a population of 1,400,000, even half a percent was nothing to ignore.  A _fourth_ of a percent would have been overwhelming all by itself.  In a world where vampires, lycans, and humans were just barely coexisting after millennia of war and bloodshed, the development of humans with inhuman abilities – asexual reproduction, weather manipulation, metal-like second skin, teleportation – was not entirely welcomed.  For some time, no one would even believe that they existed, which created a skirmish between the supernatural communities – vampires and lycans – and the human communities.  The humans made themselves believe that the vampires and lycans had mastered new talents or abilities and had simply refused to tell them, harboring them as hidden weapons.  The lycans believed that the metahumans had been created by humans as hidden weapons. 

The vampires were simply done with everyone and, after millennia of segregation and discrimination that was fresh in most of their very long memories, sat back and watched with graveyard humor as, once again, everyone raised their torches and pitchforks and tried to start a fight.

Barry Allen, just a lowly CSI from the HCCPD – Human Central City Police Department, part of a tri-branch that included the VCCPD and the LCCPD (Vampire CCPD and Lycan CCPD) – was one of the few that took arms _against_ the skirmishes.  With no explanation of how he did it, he brought criminal metahumans to light, and stood by the less criminal and guiltless metahumans as they made publish speeches of how, _yes_ , they did exist, and, _yes_ , they recognized that a spike in crime rates was due to other metahumans, but bad existed in every group and they should not all be judged by the actions of the few.

“Haven’t we learned this already?” asked one such speaker, Shawna Baez, clutching at the podium while cameras clicked and the murmur of reporters almost drowned her out.  Her makeup was immaculate and her grief well-hidden.  Up until three days ago, her boyfriend had been using her ability to teleport to commit villainous acts and rob banks. 

Barry Allen had caught up to her – she would not tell anyone how – and told her that she deserved better and that he would like to help her.  His kind hazel eyes and sad smile, his outstretched hand, had made Shawna reach out to him. 

She had needed someone after her boyfriend had pepper sprayed her in the eyes and run off so that she could take the fall for his actions. 

As she spoke in front of the court hall, Barry Allen stood by her side while police waited just outside of her immediate sight, ready to take her away.  Barry was fighting for her to have a shortened sentence on the basis that she had been emotionally manipulated and had also just been the transportation. 

Shawna wasn’t sure if it would work or not, but Barry was part of the HCCPD.  She tried to believe in him, or even just remember that, for having tried to shoot him once, he was gentle with her.

Barry Allen wasn’t fighting alone, of course.  There were members from all three communities exposing the existence of metahumans and then defending the rights of those metahumans. 

It took nine months before the community leaders of Central City – the mayors of the human population, the vampire population, and the lycan population – came together and finally worked out a plan for apprehending and detaining metahuman criminals.

It took six more months before they grumbled through a discussion of how to treat metahumans in public and in school.

So far, they were not willing to discuss discrimination against metahumans and were turning a blind eye to signs popping up over Central City that declined service to metahumans, employment to metahumans, or demanded that metahumans not even enter private property or establishments. 

The MHHLV (Metahuman-Human-Lycan-Vampire) Alliance – otherwise known as the Gradient Alliance – tried its hardest to counter the attacks on metahuman rights, but the fear toward this new group was still largely in control and the petty need to feel above someone else, to feel in control of someone else, had normally sanguine characters sneering at metahumans and treating them like less, as if they were not worthy to walk on the same side of the street.

“Artificial” became a derogatory word thrown at metahumans pretty fast – since metahumans hadn’t been born with their abilities like vampires or lycans and their genetic alterations were somehow seen as optional additions. 

“This is insulting,” Barry snapped, throwing the newspaper on the table.  The headlines read, ‘ANOTHER ARTIFICIAL ATTACKS’

Caitlin Snow, a vampire and one of his closest friends, sighed and tossed the newspaper in the garbage.  “We can’t change everyone’s mind in a year, Barry.  Hate and fear are very powerful motivators that have dictated all of our communities for longer than I’ve even existed.  It will take awhile before metahumans are seen as something other than…”  She paused, searching her mind for an appropriate word that was not also insulting.

“Pests?” Cisco Ramon offered helpfully, a cherry lollipop in cheek.  The lycan raised his eyebrows at Caitlin, who shot a less than impressed look back at him.

“That was not what I was going for.”

“If I fits, I sits,” Cisco returned, shrugging.  “Harry – ” Cisco flinched at the name, “is already creating tech that will be able to detect metahumans.  If that doesn’t sound like pest control to you, than you’ve never had to deal with an infestation.”

“That possibly has something to do with the fact that I don’t get fleas every summer.”

“Excuse you!” Cisco jabbed his lollipop in her direction.  “I haven’t had fleas since I was twelve!”

Barry slouched back in his chair with a sigh.  “Guys?  It’s great that you get along so well, but maybe we can go back to that thing Cisco just said about Dr. Wells creating something that could create mass hysteria and incite violence against metahumans.”

“The tech?  It’s not good, man.”  Cisco shook his head.  “They function like watches and look like watches, but they are not _just_ watches.  They set off an alarm whenever a metahuman comes within ten feet of you.”

“How is that even possible?” Barry asked.  “How can you create something so small to sense genetic alterations?”

“Well…”  Cisco began to look nervous.  Not only did he shuffle in his seat, but his body hair seemed to thicken in seconds.  “That’s the thing.  There is apparently a way to differentiate our three communities from metahumans by their electromagnetic field.  We all have one!  And, from species to species, they’re just slightly different.”  Cisco sucked on his lollipop. 

Barry closed his eyes for a brief moment.  A nervous Cisco was a good sign of that he should also be nervous.

“This is going to be a problem for more than just the metahumans, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

Cisco shrugged.  “It’s been tested against all _known_ communities to increase accuracy.  It’s at a little over 80% now, so it should be on the market by next summer…”

“I’m not a known community,” Barry interpreted.  “I could set off the tech.”

Cisco swallowed and nodded. 

Caitlin cursed in a most un-lady-like way.  “This,” she said, pushing her white and golden curls out of her face, “is very bad.”

~::~

In Central City, there were now four known communities: Vampire, Lycan, Metahuman, and Human.

Barry Allen was not a known community.  As a matter of fact, he couldn’t even name five other people like him in the whole world.  So he put up a front and tried to seem human.  He had a human family – the Wests – who had let him stay with them for generations.  He loved them dearly, one after the other, each of them holding a place in his heart, and he felt each of their passings like a dagger carving their names into his ribs.  But he kept loving them anyway.  He was especially fond of Joe West, even if he had helped raise the man and he still treated Barry like a wayward son, and of Iris West, who treated him like a brother. 

Then he had his best friends, Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon.  Caitlin, as a vampire, was already two hundred and twenty-seven hundred years old and had begun to age as vampires did.  In their youth, vampires were beautiful and their voices lyrical, like the elves in _Lord of the Rings_ – but that was just a defense.  The younger the vampire, the more sensitive to light and more susceptible to physical injuries.  They were much like baby sea turtles in that sense that they wore their shells, but their shells were still soft.  It was only with age that they became tougher.  And, with age, the stronger they became, the harder they became to kill, the less they resembled humans.  Their elders more resembled tall, gaunt, and ghastly anthropomorphic bats with pale blue eyes set into their grotesque features*.  By that time, around a thousand years of age, a vampire was considered impossible to kill through any known means

Caitlin Snow’s eyes had already turned pale blue.  A majority of her curls and body hair had turned a frosty white, though some golden strands still grew.  She was quite proud to be so old – though still incredibly young – and, when he and Cisco were apparently more insufferable than usual, she would mutter about how she couldn’t wait to become an elder and retire. 

In their metamorphic style of defense and aging, lycans and vampires were very similar.  Lycans also (usually) looked human for the first few decades of their lifespans.  As they aged, they became furrier, and then anthropomorphic, and then went from bipedal to quadrupedal.  Eventually, they resembled very large wolves that had mastered human speech.  Such a complete transformation took almost two hundred years.  Their full moon shifts, by comparison, were very underwhelming – their nails grew, their omnivorous teeth fell out to be replaced by a mouthful of fangs, and their body hair all but enveloped them.  At the least, their muscle density increased, making them four times stronger than their human counterparts, and their sense of smell and hearing resembled that of their wolf cousins – but only when they shifted. 

Cisco Ramon was only thirty-two.  He had a while to go before he began to resemble his weary and age-marked elders who, unlike the vampire elders, were brittle and dying in their old age, though still very wise. 

These were Barry Allen’s two best friends.  Them and a small handful of others knew his secret. 

He tried to keep it that way.  And he managed to do so until the development of metahumans.  Then it was necessary for someone, someone strong enough and fast enough and not biased, to step up and try to maintain peace.

That was when he and his family came up with the idea of an alter ego.

“You can just pretend to be a metahuman!  But, like, by day, you’re still a human.  So…”

“A vigilante,” Caitlin clarified, grimacing.

“I was thinking more comic book superhero,” Cisco reiterated, one arm crossed over his chest and the other making an airy motion.  “You’ll need a cool name.”

“Uh huh,” Barry agreed distractedly, squirming in the red suit Cisco just happened to have made for the Central City fire department and that also _just happened_ to fit Barry perfectly. 

He had sensed a trap, and now he had dressed right into it.

“What power are you using again?” Caitlin asked.

“Just speed.”  Barry could do a lot with speed.  “It’s the safest.”

“The Streak?” Iris offered helpfully from the control panel, located off to the side of the lab.  “It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“It also sounds like he had an accident in his pants,” Cisco said.

Before Iris could rebuke, Cisco held up a hand, the other going to the earpiece he was wearing that was connected to the police scanner installed into the computer panel.  “There’s a hostage situation on East 38th.  Two metahumans are holding at least thirteen civilians – mixed communities – against their will in a blood bank.”  He grimaced at Barry.  “They’re demanding Detective Joe West exchange himself for eleven of the hostages.”

“The Weather Wizards,” Barry realized.  “Clyde and Mardon.” 

“This is it, Barry,” Caitlin told him.  “I hope you’re ready.”

“It’s not like we haven’t done this before,” Barry pointed out, tugging the red mask over his face.  He wasn’t sure how hiding his hair was going to protect his identity, but he trusted Cisco and his surprisingly good outfitting skills.  “This is just the first time in an official suit.”

Cisco snorted.  “Well, you and that official suit better get down there in a flash ‘cause –”

“ _The Flash_.”  Caitin’s eyes were wide with realization.

Iris nodded.  “The Flash.”

Cisco, for a moment, looked ready to fight them.  But then he too nodded.  “Better get going, Flash.”  He smiled.  “The day isn’t going to save itself!”

“Right.”  Barry gave Iris a quick hug on his way out the door.  “I’ll see you guys soon!”

After he was gone, a confused look passed over Iris’s face.  “You said that there were thirteen hostages, right?”

“Yep.”  Cisco popped the ‘p’.

“But if my dad goes, they’ll only release eleven?”

There was a moment where everyone considered that math.

“What will happen to the other two?” Caitlin asked the obvious question because, in their line of business, someone had to.

~::~

Mick was getting up there in age, which was a shame.  They both were, really. 

Leonard’s hair, cut short as it was, had turned white and his eyes an icy blue.  His ears had come to a point as well and a majority of his teeth were sharp enough to slice through leather – which had come in handy more times than he had thought it would at this point. 

And then there was Mick.  Mick had been with him for the past hundred and twelve years and so Leonard had gotten to watch his friend’s transformation shift from the subtle changes – like his body hair growing in thicker, his ears shifting up, getting longer, his nose and jaw getting longer, sticking out from his face, his fingers and feet getting shorter, digits thicker – to the obvious things – like that he was now covered in white-speckled brown fur and looked like a wolf with broader shoulders and longer arms.  When Mick walked these days, he was almost stooped over, as if at any moment he could drop to all fours and take off after his prey.  His snout was shorter than his canine cousin, ears not as furry, forehead broader…  All in all, though, Mick was not the man he had known a century ago, when he had just been a moody, teenage arsonist.  Now he just looked like an older, moodier anthropomorphic wolf. 

Pretty soon, he’d be limping around on all fours like a dog and then, a few years after that, he’d be dead. 

It showed how certain Leonard was of their survival that that wasn’t even a question of “If”, but “When”.

These two assholes showing up didn’t even make Leonard doubt himself for a moment. 

For now, though, he stayed crouched down on the ground with everyone, Mick salivating and snarling at his side, all but snapping in his rage of having two dumb kids trying to pull one over on them. 

“So angry,” the older of the two dumbasses all but crooned.  Then he spoke lazily to Leonard, “You might want to learn to control your mutt before we put him down.” 

He had seen them come in with a swirl of precipitation and heat, creating lightning and storm clouds _inside_ the building.  The older idiot had even struck down one of the security guards with a lightning bolt, which, Leonard felt, was somewhat impressive. 

But he had also noted the guns attached to their belts.  For how completely stupid these two were, he had to give them credit for understanding that a light show and some mist wasn’t going to deter a room full of supernaturals like the vampires that usually frequented blood banks.

When they had first come in, they had even cased the place for what Leonard now assumed were elder vampires.  If an elder of his kind had been present, they would have been dead already.  As it was, Leonard was the oldest thing present and the dumbasses had already shot one of his kind today to prove that they were carrying UV Ray bullets and then had grazed Mick when he had charged them earlier with a silver bullet.

Prepared.  He could appreciate that. 

Even if it did simultaneously piss him off. 

Mick snarled.  “Who’re you calling a _mutt_ , kid?”

The younger of the two jabbed Mick’s nose with the muzzle of his gun.  “Let me let you in on a little secret.”  He crouched down, which was incredibly stupid.  “When we have Joe West, we’re going to let everyone else in here go.  Everyone… except you two.”  He smiled.  “You both look like you’ve existed long enough.”

“We _have_ existed a good long while,” Leonard admitted.  “However, I wouldn’t say that we have existed long _enough_.  That suggests that our days are vastly numbered and I do not appreciate that sort of language.”

“Okay, old-timer,” the young said with a shrug, then shot Mick in the leg.

Mick roared and tipped to the side, eyes bloodshot and wild as he focused his pain and rage on the poor soul.  “You wanna die, kid?” he growled.  “’Cause you’re gonna die.”

And then he leaped… right over the younger dumbass and straight at the older dumbass because the two might have thought to bring silver bullets and UV Ray bullets, but they hadn’t thought far enough for them both to carry one of each. 

UV Ray bullets was poisonous to most and had been linked to cancer in humans while being extremely injurious or even fatal for vampires. 

Lycans just got rashes and then got over it.

Which left the younger dumbass, swinging around with his gun, trying to keep Mick in his sights, to Leonard.  If silver touched a lycan’s skin, the skin could become enflamed, scaly, and flaky.  If silver got into the bloodstream, it was extremely toxic and agonizing.  Leonard would know because he had had to be the one to dig them out of Mick’s hide more than once and then had to deal with the after effects – the fever, the shakes, the hallucinations, the vomiting, the chances of Mick’s liver failing. 

Silver to a vampire was jewelry. 

And Leonard had a history with taking jewelry.  So he plucked the gun out of the dumbass’s hand and then pistol whipped him with it. 

The storm clouds inside began to churn and darken.  A violent wind kicked up and other patrons, starting to come to their feet, were nearly swept into a tornado.  One unfortunate soul disappeared into the swirling mass of lounge chairs and dust bunnies before being thrown violently against a wall.  The body gasped and then went limp. 

“It must be past someone’s bedtime,” Leonard called out over the tornado.  Mick howled, a sign that he had heard him, while the older dumbass tried to kick the lycan off of him.  The dumbass pulled a hand back and a ball of hail the size of Mick’s head formed. 

Mick obviously didn’t like where that was going because he hit the dumbass so hard across the face that he went unconscious. 

This all could have been avoided, of course, if the dumbasses had thought far enough ahead.  Did they consider all the ways their plan could fail?

Obviously not.

The tornado swirled to nothing, letting chairs and papers clatter to the ground.  Through the front door, a red streak flew in. 

The figure stopped, considered the scene, and then looked right at Leonard. 

The figure began to vibrate – actually _vibrate_ – which had the added benefit of blurring its facial features, stupidly revealed by the mask he was wearing that really only succeeded in hiding his hair and gave him raccoon eyes.

“ _Really_?!” the ‘masked’ individual asked.  His voice also seemed to vibrate.  “What are you two doing here?”

The shock of the new person’s voice made the other hostages bolt for the door, escaping while the escaping was good.  In less than a minute, the only hostages left besides him and Mick was the man who had had a most intimate meeting with the wall and hadn’t woken up from it yet as well as a woman crouched in a corner of the waiting room.

“Better question, what are you supposed to be?” Leonard asked, assessing the red blur of a suit he could somewhat make out.  “A comic book superhero, perhaps?”

“I’m the Flash,” the red streak said, sounding a little lost.  “I came here to help.”

“No help necessary.  We have the situation under control.”  He smirked at the blur.  “Now, why don’t you send in some of your cop buddies so that we can get this wrapped up.  I’d like to get home sometime tonight.”

“You make it sound as if you have plans tonight,” the blur said cheekily. 

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he admitted. 

Mick huffed from behind him, one heavy hand on the asshole’s windpipe while his back legs trembled, threatening to give out on him.  “If you’re done, I have a problem.”  And then he pitched sideways, wheezing, and Leonard gave the red blur a pointed look.

“You might want to get him to a _hospital_ ,” he told the ‘Flash’.  “He’s been shot with a silver bullet.”

The asshole who Mick had been holding down was probably not going to wake up any time soon and might also need medical attention – though Leonard would have preferred he be dead for all the trouble he had caused.

The blur seemed to nod.  “Yeah, definitely, I can do – ”

The wet sound of innards spilling across the floor was eerily familiar from a time long ago, when Leonard had been young.  That sound could never be forgotten, not really.

The blur stopped vibrating, expression slack in disbelief and then twisted in grief, looking behind Leonard.  “Oh, no…”

He steeled himself and then dared to look.

The last female vampire left behind had slit open the younger dumbass’s abdomen and his throat.  She was breathing hard, her hands dripping blood, her face ashen pale.  She looked wild with shock and panic, shaking.  She met Leonard’s eyes.  “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered.  “I _won’t_.” 

And Leonard wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about until he saw her eyes turn to the ‘Flash’. 

“I’m not a hateful person,” she sobbed.  “I’m not, but all your kind has ever done is destroy this city and then get away with it.”  Her grief disappeared behind blinding rage.  “I’m _done_ with it.  If the communities won’t take care of it the problem, _I will_.”

To Leonard, that _did_ sound like something a hateful person would say.  As it was, he stepped between her and the fucking idiot in the red suit – was it supposed to be leather or something? – and held up a hand beseechingly.

Before he could say a word, the newest dumbass to arrive spoke instead.

 _Shut the Hell up_ , Leonard thought, but it was too late.

“I’m sorry,” the scarlet idiot apologized, as if the female vampire’s psyche snapping was somehow his fault.  “I’m sorry for whatever has pushed you this far, but murder is not the answer.  He was unconscious, we could have apprehended him.  You didn’t have to kill him.”

Her eyes were impossibly wide as she looked from him to Leonard.  “You’re Leonard Snart, right?” she asked, voice shrill.  She was already nodding to herself.  “You took care of the hunters coming into Central City back in the 1800’s, you were mayor for _three_ terms, you’ve advocated for vampire foster homes, rallied for the reformation of Central City’s domestic violence law, fought for better health care plans for younger vampires...”

To hear just some of his past actions listed out made him vaguely uncomfortable and very much on the defense.  She sounded like a fan. 

In this context, she wasn’t the kind of fan he wanted to get acquainted with. 

“You have done so much for us,” she whimpered.  “Helped us so much, protected us.  Help me now, please.  Help me get rid of the artificials.  I want to protect us too.”

The doors behind them were thrown open as a S.W.A.T. team began to swarm in. 

“No!” The red idiot yelled, blurring.  He grabbed Mick and thrust him at the nearest uniforms before pushing them all back out of a dangerous situation – the HCCPD and its divisions would not be fully prepared to handle a vampire attack.  His back turned, no longer behind Leonard, the woman struck.  Leonard made a half-hearted attempt to intercept, teeth bared, but even as the Fucking Lousy Ass Super Hero (as Leonard now decided the FLASH stood for) threw some chairs and furniture in front of the door as well as the older weather manipulator’s unconscious body to barricade it, the female vampire’s hand went straight through his chest.  The lightning emblem that had been on the front crackled and then shattered as her hand came out the other side. 

Older than Leonard had originally surmised.  Her nails were too sharp and she was too strong, too fast, to be anything less than at least two hundred years old. 

He watched the FLASH gasp, jerk on the hand, and then slide gracelessly to the ground. 

The female vampire sobbed and then smiled shakily.  “I can do this.  Even if it’s just these three, I can make my city that much better again.”  She jerked toward Leonard.  “Right?  Every little bit counts.”

She was obviously looking for some confirmation, some sort of congratulations for her actions or her reasoning.

Leonard gave her a dull look and leaned his left side into the receptionist’s counter.  “You seem to think that I’m on your side.”  He gave her a pointed look.  “I’m not.”

Her smile slipped away, confusion replacing it.  “But I’m doing the right thing!  I’m not a hateful person, I’m _not_ , but they need to die!”

“Right,” he drawled.  “I’m not a vampire, I’m _not_ , but I am three hundred and fifty years old, occasionally need to drink blood to survive, and a large V is printed on my driver’s license and state I.D..  But I’m _not_ a vampire.”

“Are you mocking me?” She whispered.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.  “Because you have acted recklessly and have killed a man needlessly.  Did I want that dumbass alive?  No.  He _deserved_ to die and I did want to kill him.  The difference between you and I is that I realize that that is not my choice to make anymore.  I gave up that choice years ago.  _You_ do not get to make that choice, but because you have, you are going to die.”

She looked properly chastised and even afraid for all of a handful of seconds.

And then she frowned.  “I killed two men.”

“No,” Leonard corrected.  “You killed one man.”

The scarlet little fucker let loose an inhuman growling noise, hands pawing at the ground until he managed to get them beneath him so that he could hoist himself up onto his hands and knees.  The air suddenly seemed charged, static, and the female vampire’s long blonde hair began to stand on end.

She jerked back from the moving body, then yelped as she accidentally ran into a wall and was shocked by the contact.

The Funny Looking Amateur Super Hero lifted his head and found her with scarlet eyes, the skin not hidden by his costume a strange and unearthly bluish gray, as if his corpse had been left in the snow. 

“Ever thought about it?” Leonard questioned as the other man lifted himself off the ground.  “Humans eat animals.  Vampires eat humans.  What if there is something that eats humans?”*

She shook her head, terrified.  “I don’t get it.”

“A vampire that feeds on vampires,” Leonard clarified.  “They exist, and you just grievously injured one.  Now he has to feed to recover.”

Gathering her courage, she leapt for the Fucking Lunatic with SHitty taste…

And then gasped, wheezed, and gurgled as the red-clothed man held her in a tight embrace and tore into her throat. 

It was long gulps later before the red began to recede from the man’s eyes.  A few sips after that, remorse showed on his face.  The static that had begun to make small objects float around the room began to recede, allowing pencils and pens and magazines to fall to the floor. 

The man carefully laid the woman down and crossed her hands over her breast.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, even as he rubbed her blood off of his face with the back of his fist. 

The hole in his chest was completely gone, as if there had never been anything but flawless skin right where the tear in his clothing was. 

Leonard gave him a moment to grieve.  He grieved every time he accidentally killed someone with his hunger, which was nonsensical to Leonard.

He only killed the vampires he fed from when he was mortally wounded, and it was always the vampires who had given him the wound. 

But Barry Allen hated killing.  Oh, he loved the challenge of a good fight, had a bite ten times stronger than his bark, and would never back down from an aggressor – but that didn’t make him any less _soft_.  Most of the time, he even did what he could to avoid hurting others. 

That very rarely ever worked out.  Even Leonard was a prime example of why words just didn’t work.  Barry had had to kick his ass back in his younger days more times than Leonard would ever admit to. 

So he let Barry have a moment, until the pounding and heaving at the door began to actually give way. 

He stood between Barry and the body of the younger weather manipulator, than carefully moved to the right, knowing that, when he spoke, Barry would have to look at him.  He didn’t want Barry to look at the other body.

He wanted Barry to look at him.

“So what is the costume supposed to do?  Hide your hair color?” He asked.

Barry blinked down at the female vampire and then up at him.  His jaw worked a few times before he spoke.  “Would you believe me if I said I’m not who you think I am?”

“No, Scarlet – and that _is_ what I’m going to call you from now on –, I would not believe you.  Yes, it’s _very_ difficult to recognize you without your gravity-defying brown fluff, but I have been well acquainted with that mouth for exactly three hundred and five years.  If you were going for subtle, you failed.”

He eyeballed the costume design.  “Let me guess, Ramon’s idea?”

Barry managed to drudge up a little smile for him, but it only looked tragic.  “Yeah.  The idea was that…  Was that, if there was a metahuman vigilante, fighting crime and keeping everyone safe, it would set positive standards for the metahuman community and foster better relations with the other communities.”

“But you’re not a metahuman,” Leonard stated.  “How would it look if that came to light?”

“We were thinking that it wouldn’t,” Barry whispered.  “Wow, that failed really fast.”

“No, it didn’t.  No one else is going to know how this happened.”

“There are bite marks, Len,” Barry pointed out tiredly.  “And you’re not taking the fall for me.”

“I don’t plan to,” he said.  “I also don’t plan on having a _fifth_ community come to light so soon after the metahuman revelation.  No one needs to know, or is ready to know, about Crusnik*, Scarlet.”  He wrapped one hand around the nape of Barry’s neck and tucked the other under Barry’s chin, moving his face to meet Leonard’s mouth in a domineering kiss.

“You’re leaving,” he ordered, even though he was the younger of them.  “I will take care of this.  Like I always do.  Like I always take care of you.”

Barry shuddered.  “This was a bad idea.”

“No,” Leonard disagreed.  “This is just bad timing and placement.  Now go.”

Barry kissed him again softly, copper and rust strong on his tongue.  “See you at home?”

“Where else would I go?”

Barry sped away, faster than even Leonard’s eyes could follow, and blew right past the S.W.A.T. team that had finally just managed to break down the doors.

Leonard, crouched near the female vampire’s body, gave them a carefully blank expression.  “You might want to be more careful the next time you break down doors.  There was a metahuman barricading that entrance and you might have just broken his spine.”

The weather manipulator groaned pitifully and began waking up, limbs moving slowly in all directions.

“Lucky day,” Leonard drawled.  “He’ll be fine.  His accomplice, on the other hand, is dead, and so is this vampire.”  He gestured toward her chewed-up throat.  “Would anyone like to tell me how this happened?

The four vampires in the group made certain that the humans did not turn it back around on him and ask _him_ what he saw with steely glares and whispered demands. 

He had, of course, been their most successful mayor of the past century who had increased their quality of life by at least twelve percent by introducing domed parks for young vampires and also garnering the support of seven of Central City’s thirteen elder vampires.  Their old money – quite old, to be honest – had helped fund better schools, day care, and hospitals, all things that had been nearly impossible for vampires to have access to in the lycan and human communities in just the past century.

He had been familiar with most of the VCCPD at least in passing during his terms and he had been banking on the loyalty still being present. 

Leonard would be out of questing in four hours, tops, and then he would check on Mick in the hospital.

After that, he would check on his eternal other. 

Barry Allen would need the most attention.

~::~

To Be Continued…

 


	2. Borne From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude of history concerning the great and powerful Barry and his eternal other Leonard Snart.

Leonardo Sarto had been young once – not even fifty years old – and he had been in trouble.  That was when he met Barthélémy.

Vampires lost interest in physical gratification at some point in their later life.  With age, the physical aspects of existing – hunger, temperature, pain, _pleasure_ – dulled and withered and were lost to memory.  After their thousandth year of existing, most vampires desired nothing at all, and most took to silent vigilance over their lineages until even the blood in their veins turned to sand and age petrified them like fossils.   
It was a simple matter to find the oldest vampire lineages – those were the estates with gargoyles, ancestors now resting in stone, on their balconies and roofs.

Before that time, most elders accepted this fate.  They gave into age with grace and dignity after a millennia of offering wisdom and guidance to their lineages, and were considered quite beautiful and awe inspiring by their descendants.

Some vampires, however, did not.  Something twisted inside of them, some desire to remain young, to _feel_.  They gorged themselves on food and blood, sex and torture.  They fought the sands of time, even as every mirror reflected back at them bald scalps, blue eyes, and faces like a bat.  Even when they failed to feel hungry, they ate.  Even when they failed to feel cold or hot, they dressed.  Even when they failed to feel lust, they fucked. 

They would fuck the unwilling and the dead if they thought it would be exciting.   

One such elder was Duke Matteo Tassi (1) of the Duchy of Cimitero (2) who had recently celebrated his thousandth year of existence.  It was noted by his alliances that his behavior was becoming frenzied; he was agitated, violent, and monstrous.

Tassi, the neighboring vampire princedoms whispered, was not pleased with his age.  Nearby human settlements at the time had been notably disturbed.

And it was this elder – this desperate fool – who held council with the criminal Louis Sarto.  Louis wanted access to the Santini treasury and the diamonds rumored to be there.  The Santini lineage had been a longtime ally and neighbor of Tassi’s and had stood by the Tassi lineage through several wars and skirmishes.

Louis promised Tassi his daughter and son in exchange and Tassi eagerly accepted.  What was an alliance if he felt nothing for it?  Within his heart was no loyalty or fondness for the other lineage, but a hunger for thrill and satisfaction.

Leonardo had first spoken to Louis, saying that _he_ could get the damn diamonds.  He was young and the Santini lineage had a great deal more of experience, but he was quick and clever and, most of all, determined to keep his sister Elisabetta safe.  Louis had guffawed and told him that he couldn’t break a pact with an elder.

And then Louis told Leonardo to lay down and spread his legs for Tassi because, if he did not, he would make Elisabetta go in his place.  It was assurance, Louis said with a sneer. 

“In his wisdom, Tassi knows better than to make a pact without proof that I will uphold my promise,” Louis explained.  “You can leave, of course – of you and Elisabetta, you _are_ faster.”

The implication was clear. 

The days he spent in the elder’s bed had felt centuries long and had left deep scars across his back and down his thighs.  He’d locked up the part of him that was screaming for the elder to stop, had locked away everything that had to do with emotions and how much he hated himself and the elder and his fucking sire, and had done what he had to do.

Bottom lip busted, neck and shoulders raw from ‘love bites’, and feeling unwelcomed in his own skin, he found himself scheming at a local tavern.

Louis had hidden Elisabetta from him, knowing he would not leave and would come at beck and call if only to guarantee her safety.  Louis was right, of course – even now, Leonardo was not far from the Tassi’s commune.  Tassi’s servants knew exactly where to find him.

He would murder and die before he let Elisabetta suffer what he had suffered.  He would burn down villages and swallow the sun before he let that corrupt elder even gaze upon her naked flesh. 

The shame and fury burned in his gut and he let it churn there, allowed it to cool and then freeze, become ice in his veins, because emotions could only distract him from what had to be done.  He had to find Elisabetta and then they had to escape.  How far could they go from Louis?  Leonardo would have to kill their sire to ensure that Louis did not continue to use them as pawns in his thirst for wealth and glory.  Would Tassi come after them?  Tassi was an elder and vehemently bitter about his age and status; he might consider him and Elisabetta leaving as a challenge and come after them.  Leonardo had spent long enough trapped beneath Tassi to know that the elder vampire saw Leonardo as a tool to use for his own satisfaction.  Leonardo was property and Tassi had bought him. 

No, Tassi would follow him and Elisabetta to the New World, if only for the thrill of the chase.  He would be a most difficult foe to escape as well.  He had the advantage of flight and immunity to sunlight while a single sunray could cause Leonardo and Elisabetta’s skin to blister and ooze.  Tassi could travel tirelessly and seek them from the sky while he and Elisabetta would be forced to cross land and water alike to make any sort of progress.

The futility of it nearly drove Leonardo mad.  Yes, he could steal the diamonds himself from the Santinis, but it had never _just_ been about the diamonds for Louis and Tassi and he had been childish to believe so for even a moment.  Louis had allied himself with several duchys and princedoms in Western Europe, but this was his first partnership with an elder as foolish and malleable as Tassi.  Tassi saw their partnership as only being advantageous to himself; Tassi _wanted_ war.  He wanted bloodshed and pain and screams and pleasure.  He wanted to _feel_.  The Santini lineage was one of his most loyal allies and one of his weakest as well.  Of the neighboring territories, the Santini would have the least support in a skirmish and, once Tassi attacked, other territories would descend upon the Santini lineage like rabid dogs.  The ripples of bloodlust and the unequal distribution of their wealth would only fuel more fighting, involving more territories and lineages, until Tassi would be in the middle of a sea with waves that lapped crimson at his clawed toes. 

Behind him would stand Louis, ready and eager to collect wealth and titles of nobility as one lineage after another descended into madness. 

The human settlements would perish, no doubt.  The lycan clans off to the East would become involved and it had only been just before Leonardo’s birth that the last war between lycans and vampires had come to an unsatisfactory close. 

In short, Leonardo concluded, there was everything to gain for Tassi and Louis and nothing he could do to stop them.

But there must be _something_.

He tipped back his vermouth and stared unseeingly at the bottom of his cup.

The chair across from him suddenly moved – a sign that he was not half as aware as he should be – and then an unfamiliar man settled into it, wearing a daring ensemble of a gold waistcoat with a burgundy coat and breeches.

His smile was very white and sincere.  Leonardo knew he was not going to like the man. 

“You are Leonardo, yes?” the stranger asked, still smiling.

“Is someone asking for me?” Leonardo returned testily. 

“Your sister,” the stranger replied immediately.  “She had asked me to find you.  She fears for you.”

Leonardo did not have words for a moment.  “You have spoken to my sister?  When?  Where?”

But the man shook his head.  “I have not seen her in days.  It seemed as if she was being hunted when we last met.”

A trap, Leonardo realized.  This was a trap.  Was Tassi aware of Leonardo’s schemes?  Did he believe that Leonardo would somehow manage to save himself and his sister from Tassi’s clutches and so had sent a servant to trick Leonardo into a sense of security so that he would reveal such schemes?

Leonardo had no such schemes. 

“Oh?”  Leonardo leaned casually over the table.  “How fitting.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have spoken to my sister recently?  I have not seen her in twelve days.  Wherever she is, she is in no position to be running abound on the streets and meeting…” he gave the man a pointed look.  “Strangers.  Even helpful strangers.”

The man appeared saddened by Leonardo’s lack of faith.  “I wish to help you, if only you will tell me what is wrong.”

“How did you know me from the other nine gentlemen in this tavern?” Leonardo asked.  “If my sister spoke of me to you, she would have had to be very detailed in her description of me as I have no portrait and frequent no establishment with familiarity.  And yet, here you are, having found me.  Perhaps it is not even me you are looking for.”

The man’s gaze flickered to the table.  “You are Leonardo Sarto.  Your sister Elisabetta has spoken of you to me in the past.  You have as much spirit as she swore to me you did.  In recent events, however, I fear that your sire, Louis Sarto, has somehow or in some way put you both in grave danger.”  He seemed earnest when he next looked to Leonardo.  “I know not what he has done, but this I do know: I can help.  If only you give me a direction, you and your sister will be safe from harm.”

“Safe from harm?” Leonardo repeated.  He stood to his feet.  “You have been fooled, stranger,” he drawled.  “My face has not always been black and blue and my neck has not always resembled butchered meat.  If you will excuse me now, I thank you for the drink, but I must be going.”

He glanced one last time at the stranger who stared steadily back.  “Never again will I see you,” Leonardo told him and then left.

Outside the tavern, a Tassi servant waited. 

Leonardo was being expected.

“Wait!”

Leonardo cursed under his breath as the burgundy fool came barreling out of the tavern behind him. 

“Wait,” the man repeated again, coming to stand next to Leonardo.  The man looked at the Tassi servant.  “I wish to accompany Leonardo, if that is alright.”

“Will you also entertain the Duke this evening?” the servant asked with a grave air.  “It might excite the Duke to play with two young bloods.”

Leonardo looked to the ground, blood trickling like ice through his veins.  Now the stranger knew what Leonardo was forced to do.

There was only a slight pause before the stranger unexpectedly replied, “Yes.”  Leonardo’s eyes flew to the man. 

The man looked back at him.  “My name is Barthélémy,” he said to the servant while holding Leonardo’s eye.  “I know that the Duke of Cimitero is always looking for new entertainment.  I have recently been disowned by my family, and, if the Duke would give me a place to rest and food to eat, I will give in exchange my body.”

The servant assessed Barthélémy and his rich attire.  “You would not last a night on the streets.”

“Yes, I know,” the man said.  “That is why I am willing to exchange services for the Duke’s hospitality.”

Earlier, the man had said that he wished to help Leonardo and Elisabetta.

The man was an accomplished liar.  Even for how outlandish his story sounded, the noble expression on his young face and the way he held his body spoke of the high standard of living he was used to and his tone of voice reluctantly hinted to his desperation. 

Leonardo was not sure if he was lying only to the servant or if he had lied to Leonardo as well.  Perhaps Barthélémy was a spy who had forgotten what truth was.

The servant reluctantly agreed to Barthélémy joining them and the man attempted to smile, relieved for the chance to return indoors and be treated with the prestige he was used to, only to grimace. 

No fangs.  Even the youngest vampire had fangs.  There was no scent of fur either, meaning that Barthélémy was also not a lycan.

Leonardo could understand why the servant agreed at all.  Barthélémy would never live to see Tassi’s hospitality.  No mere mortal could withstand the Duke’s treatment in bed.

Barthélémy would die and Leonardo would most likely be present to watch the life fade from the young man’s eyes.

At the least, it would give Leonardo more time to prepare himself.

~::~

The Tassi servant sent word of Barthélémy’s arrival at the commune entrance and then led them to the room Leonardo had been inhabiting.  Only one bath was prepared as Barthélémy’s presence had not been expected.  The Tassi did not offer to draw a second bath – a wasted effort for someone who was to soon perish – and, more surprisingly, Barthélémy did not ask for one. 

Instead, Barthélémy let Leonardo bathe first, his back turned the entire time, and then washed himself as Leonardo slipped on the robe the servant handed him. 

There was no second robe.

“Follow me, please,” the servant said, and Barthélémy quickly stepped into his breeches and tunic before stumbling after them.

He gave Leonardo a bright smile when they were side by side and Leonardo wondered just how scarlet Barthélémy was to seem so carefree about tumbling into an elder’s bed.

Surely, Barthélémy had to know he was not going to survive the experience.

By the time they stood in front of Tassi’s private rooms, Leonardo was at a loss trying to understand Barthélémy’s mind.

The human was going to die and yet he did not look like a man walking toward his death.

He looked, right before the servant knocked and then opened the doors on command, determined.

“You may enter now,” the servant said, standing off to the side of the archway.  When Leonardo and Barthélémy passed through, he shut the doors behind them.

Leonardo listened to the servant leave, footsteps quick.  No one lived in this part of the estate.  For how thick the walls were, screams still echoed and Tassi roared even louder, like a beast from myth. 

“I was told of your arrival,” Tassi said from the bed.  Slouched over the covers, he lacked the dignity and wisdom most elders carried.  “Barthélémy.  For your services, I will gladly give you shelter and food.”

“I would be glad to know that was true,” the man replied.  “If only it were true.”

Tassi sat up in bed, more attentive now.

Leonardo was also more attentive – and confused.  Barthélémy knew he was going to die?

Why would he come then?

Did he simply take the opportunity to hold council with Tassi?  Perhaps he had tried to schedule other ways of meeting and they had failed, leading to this last attempt.

Could that also explain why he had sought Leonardo at the tavern?  If such were the case, then how would he know of Elisabetta and Louis?  If such were public knowledge, the Santini would know of the Tassi lineage’s plan to eliminate them and turn their wealth over to Leonardo’s sire.

“Are you saying that I am false?” Tassi asked.

“In your search for sexual gratification, you would murder a mere human,” Barthélémy retorted.  “I have heard of your decline and I should have known that you were involved.  You must have a deal of some sorts with Louis Sarto.”

Tassi’s head tilted toward Leonardo before he questioned, “And how would _you_ know of that?”

Tassi blamed him, Leonardo realized.  He believed Leonardo had told someone of his sire’s pact with him.

“Leonardo had nothing to do with it,” Barthélémy clarified, as if reading the elder’s mind.  “I learned through other means.  Elisabetta told me that her sire was doing something foolish and that her brother was being imprisoned and tortured, to be blunt.  This was five days ago.  After that, she disappeared.  I believe you are harboring her somewhere on this property.”

Leonardo’s heart stuttered.  Twelve days ago, Louis had brought him in, saying that he had Elisabetta prisoner. 

It had been a trap and Louis had tried to set it twice.  Leonardo had not been willing to risk Elisabetta’s wellbeing and so, when Louis had threatened to send Elisabetta to Tassi’s bed, Leonardo had quickly gone in her stead without pushing for proof that Louis actually had her.

Louis had never failed to dole out punishment he felt Leonardo or Elisabetta deserved and so Leonardo had never considered that Elisabetta was not being held against her will.  If Leonardo had decided to leave, Louis would have no one to bargain with.

If what Barthélémy said was true, however, Leonardo had spent seven days in agony on an empty threat while he could have been out on the streets looking for his sister.  Together, they could have come up with a plan of escape from Tassi and gotten rid of their father.

At the very least, they could have been together.

“I might have,” Tassi said, swinging himself out of bed.  He floated above the ground for a moment, arms spread wide.  The flap of skin that stretched from knees through his long, thin fingers stretched and extended like sails before he flapped them once and appeared suddenly in front of them.

Tassi backhanded Leonardo and the force of the blow sent Leonardo flying into a wall.  With a dull thud, he fell to the floor in a curl.

He was dazzled for a moment before he put his hands and knees beneath him and pushed himself to his feet.  Lifting his head, he witnessed Tassi lift Barthélémy by his throat with one hand while the other cupped Barthélémy’s face.

“The Sarto offspring seem important to you for some reason,” Tassi realized.  “Why is that?  If you were with the Santini lineage, you would care more for the whereabouts of their sire or would have taken their lives to sabotage the pact.  You are not with their sire because their sire would never be so foolish as to betray me, especially before he has what he wants.  If you are a spy, you are a poor one for revealing what you know to me.  So many questions I have for you:  Who do you serve?  Why have you come here?  Why have you come so _far_?  Are you afraid of death?”  The hand holding Barthélémy’s face dragged down his chest, slashing at his tunic.  Blood seeped through the white fabric.  “Know that I will kill you, Barthélémy.  The dead do not speak and you cannot betray my plans if you are dead.  I want you to serve penance first, for being so obnoxious in my presence.  You will service me on your knees while your organs spill across the floor and then I will strangle you with them.  During your last breath, you will watch me take the Sarto girl.  I will have her called up from the dungeon, since you seem to have some sort of relation with her.”

The Sarto girl.

 _Elisabetta_.

She had been in the dungeons the entire time.  Leonardo had scoured those dungeons just seven days ago, hopeful that Tassi would put his sister in such an obvious location.

Seven days ago, they had not even had Elisabetta. 

Louis would have known that he would look for Elisabetta there.  That had to be why it had been so easy to get into the dungeons; Louis had told Tassi to let him search the estate so that he would know finding Elisabetta was impossible.  With nowhere else to look and believing that he could never reveal Elisabetta from whatever hole Louis had put her in, Leonardo had turned away from the dungeons.

Only two days after that, Elisabetta was truly imprisoned. 

He should have checked the dungeons every day.

Barthélémy’s face was dark and his breathing slight as he clung to the elder’s wrist, legs kicking uselessly in the air.  Before his eyes could roll into the back of his head and he would fall unconscious, Tassi released him and Barthélémy clattered to his knees.

Leonardo stood on unsteady legs as Tassi opened his doors and called for his servant.  “Bring the girl here!  I have waited long enough.”

He had waited.  Leonardo made himself believe that that meant Tassi had not violated her yet. 

He forced himself to move toward Tassi.  “Leave her be,” he said.

Tassi turned toward him and that was when Leonardo fell to his knees in front of him.  He tilted his head back and kept his mouth slightly open.  Inviting.  “Use me in her place.”

Given more time, he could think of a plan for Elisabetta to escape.  She had already been so clever to stay away while he had stupidly let himself be shut away in a cage. 

He just needed a day or two at the most. 

“And I will use you.  I would have thought that you would like to see your sister again.  You can be together, side by side, while I take pleasure from your bodies.”

If he acted thoughtlessly, if he tried to attack and kill the elder, he would only harm himself.  He reminded himself of this fervently.

Elders were impervious.  In time, they became gargoyles.  Someday, Tassi would be a gargoyle and Leonardo, if he lived to see such a day, would piss on him.

“No,” said a voice, and it was abuzz like a nest of vexed hornets. 

Barthélémy was rising to his feet and, as he did, so too did the temperature of Tassi’s private quarters.  The air felt damp and charged, as if lightning were about to strike in the midst of a summer storm. 

Tassi’s pale, leather-like skin prickled with goosebumps.  Leonardo watched them form on the hairless flesh of Tassi’s legs. 

On his own flesh, every little hair stood on end. 

“You will not harm them,” vowed Barthélémy, lifted his head from his chest.  His eyes glowed red in a face that seemed drained of all life, like a corpse kept in snow.  Even his lips were a frigid blue and quickly turning black.

Over his bottom lip peeked fangs.

“No,” Tassi echoed, but his expression was more of horror and his tone of disbelief.  He turned his head as if forced against his will and screamed when he saw what Barthélémy had become.  “Your kind has perished!”

“Then how am I here?”

Barthélémy disappeared and it was only after Tassi screamed again that Leonardo realized that Barthélémy had run at the elder and struck him in the face with such force that the wall crumbled when Tassi impacted with it. 

No vampire had ever moved so quickly.

Leonardo climbed to his feet and studied the unknown creature as Barthélémy walked toward the elder.

“Monster,” Tassi whispered as Barthélémy stood over him.  Tassi’s small, blue eyes were filled with terror.  “You cannot be real.”

“I am real,” Barthélémy said.  “You are frightened now.  You have raped and murdered to feel again and all it would have taken was me this entire time.”

“I do not want this,” Tassi whimpered.

“How many times have you heard that before?” Barthélémy growled.

Tassi screeched – highly undignified for an elder – and flapped his arms, pushing himself against the wall and above Barthélémy’s head.  Just above him, he swiped at Barthélémy with his clawed toes.  Barthélémy ducked to avoid him and it was in that moment that Tassi dropped his weight on the creature, mouth gaping open as he dragged his claws down Barthélémy’s back and scalp.  Savagely, he kicked at Barthélémy and he slid across the floor, a rumpled, bloody mess.

“Sarto!” Tassi yelled, and Leonardo’s eyes snapped to him.  “Help me kill him and I will let your sister free from your sire’s pact!”

Leonardo considered the bargain and the elder.  “Why,” he drawled, “would I do that?”

Tassi’s small blue eyes widened.

“Your fear is clear to see,” Leonardo revealed.  “Why would an elder who would go to such great lengths to experience emotion want help in killing the one thing that has made him feel genuine fear?”

The fear was a sign of something else, of course.

Barthélémy – whatever he was – was a threat, not only to Tassi’s wellbeing, but to his existence.

Perhaps Tassi did not want to become an elder, but he most certainly did not want to die either.

Tassi came toward him.  “I will make you suffer,” the elder raged.  “For days, you will watch me violate your sister in every way imaginable and even unimagined.  You will listen to her scream and beg for merc-”

A ball of light seared the air and tore through Tassi’s side. 

Barthélémy stepped between Leonardo and the elder, blinding white flashes of light reaching from his back like two giant wings made of lightning.  Leonardo stepped back, pulling his robe to hide his skin as he the brilliance of the light began to burn him.

“I _told_ you,” Barthélémy snarled, and his voice sounded like thunder rumbling the earth, like wasps under Leonardo’s skin.  “You will _not_ harm them.” He reached out one hand that blurred in Leonardo’s vision and pushed it through Tassi’s chest.  With his hand inside of the elder, he pulled Tassi toward him.

Tassi screamed as if in agony when Barthélémy descended upon him, wings enfolding them.  Barthélémy pressed his face to the elder’s throat and Leonardo saw a hint of his fangs before the blinding wings hid him and the elder entirely from Leonardo’s view.

Yet, still, he listened to Tassi scream.

It was seconds or ages later when Tassi’s body fell to the ground, burnt and steaming.  Barthélémy’s blinding wings stretched toward the ceiling and then folded themselves against his back before disappearing as if they had never been.

When Barthélémy turned to face him, he resembled again the young man who had sat across from Leonardo at the tavern.

He seemed to stand there, waiting for something from Leonardo.

At long last, Leonardo muttered, “Good.”  And then he turned toward the servant who had witnessed the entire thing.

The Tassi servant did not seem to know what to make of what he had seen, and was as pale as a corpse.

“Take me to my sister,” Leonardo demanded.  “Barthélémy will remain with me.”

Barthélémy gave him a look of shock.  “I will?”

“No one has told me yet how you know my sister,” Leonardo redirected.  He gave the elder’s body one last hateful look – feeling unfulfilled in having played such a small part in his demise and amiss at that he could not make the elder suffer as he had; feeling hatred in his bones and cold in his heart at knowing that he had had to contemplate an existence at the elder’s beck and call with his sister suffering by his side while a stranger who had had nothing at stake managed to do what Leonardo could only _dream_ of – before turning to follow the servant who was making toward the stairway with great haste.  “Does she know?”

“Not in great detail,” Barthélémy admitted reluctantly, subdued as he trotted after Leonardo.  “She actually fished me out of the Arno River some months ago.”

“I doubt someone powerful enough to kill an elder vampire needed saving from drowning.”

“It was not as simple as that,” Barthélémy muttered.  “I really do not care to reminisce.”

“Then I will ask Elisabetta,” Leonardo threatened.

“She will mock me!”

“Then you will tell me.”

“You,” Barthélémy murmured, “are as stubborn and determined as your sister led me to believe.”

“That,” Leonardo agreed, “and so much more.  Of course, you will come to realize this in time.”

“I will?”

They were descending toward the dungeons.  The servant had disappeared from immediate sight, leaving them to follow the sounds of his rushed scampering. 

“I plan to keep you,” Leonardo told him.  “You are far too interesting to let go.”

~::~

Barry came home later that night.  Leonard was already resting on the couch, Lady Gaga playing throughout the house because Barry was amused by that sort of thing. 

Leonard glanced up from his book as Barry wandered in, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. 

So guilty.

So sad.

With how much worth Barry put into every life he came across, even the lives he inadvertently ended, Leonard could not help but wonder which one of them had truly lived for more than eight hundred years.  Barry felt so deeply and cared too much. 

Half of his life had been spent guarding the tomb of his mother and father, who had been murdered by one of their own kind.  In the time since then, Barry had only found one other of his own kind – a man who now went by Eddie Thawne and was a _thorn_ in Leonard’s side.

With the genocide of his kind, Barry had turned his heart to others.  Of course, it would be then that an unfortunate incident three humans attempting to rape a woman would send him bobbing down the Arno River into Lisa’s judgmental care.  He had refused to attack the men and had taken the beating while the woman escaped and, hungry and faint afterward, accidentally revealed himself to Lisa.  Lisa had been weary, of course – she was a smart woman – but had given Barry blood and kept his secret at the cost of some favors. 

Her last favor from Barry had topped Barry into Leonard’s graces.

Leonard’s _hero_.

At the moment, it was very obvious that Barry did not feel that he deserved such a title.  He was as silent as the grave and looked as dead as the body that would be in that grave.  “I fucked up,” was all he said.

Without a word, Leonard opened his arms and Barry flew into them.  The crusnik curled up in his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around himself.  Even after centuries of learning each other’s bodies, Leonard still despised and rejected any hold that could restrict his movements.

Sitting on his lap so that he could wrap his arms around Barry was the best he could do and he would maintain it for only as long as he absolutely had to.

Barry understood and took advantage of it, nuzzling his face under Leonard’s jaw and pressing a light kiss just behind his ear.

“I should have stayed away today,” he murmured.

“I’m the one who thinks ahead,” Leonard told him.  “You would have had to be me to even suspect that a hostage situation would cause a speciest vampire to snap and try to go on a killing spree.”

“If I hadn’t shown up, though –”

“It is less likely that this would have happened,” Leonard agreed before Barry could finish that thought.  “It is _not_ guaranteed.  She could have had a psychotic break later with no one to stop her.  No matter how you look at it, this isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“You’re blaming yourself for someone else’s actions.”  Leonard grasped Barry by the waist and turned them so that Barry was beneath him.  He gave Barry a cold look.  “We’ve talked about this.”

“Neither of them had to die,” Barry said.

“But they did and you can’t change that.”  He let his weight drop and Barry calmed.  For reasons incomprehensible to Leonard, Barry found having another solid body on top of his own comforting and safe. 

He had decided long ago not to question it as he enjoyed laying on Barry and keeping him safe. 

Not that Barry needed Leonard to keep him safe.

That was a lie.  Barry did need Leonard to keep him safe. 

Barry was strong.  Leonard would know how strong.  Yet, at the same time, Barry’s greatest strength was in his ability to care and love despite almost a millennia of loss and pain and cruelty.  It was that same capacity of warmth and intimacy that made Barry so weak.

Barry could kill elder vampires, but Leonard could silence his inner demons.

And he did so now.  Softly, he crooned an Italian lullaby to his lover, stroking his hair, allowing himself to be affectionate in the privacy of their home with all of the windows curtained and the lights down low. 

Barry sighed and leaned into every touch until his eyes flickered shut and he began to breathe deeply and slowly. 

“Len?” he spoke, on the very edge of sleep. 

“Scarlet,” Leonard retorted.

“Love you,” Barry murmured.

Leonard kissed Barry softly on the lips, tasting cinnamon and warmth.  “Back at you, Flash.”

~::~

To Be Continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) I looked up historical criminals of Italy and chose to combine two rapists – Matteo Sereni and Agostino Tassi – in name alone to create the elder. In my first draft of this chapter, Tassi didn’t have a name. He was simply “the elder” or “the vampire”. He didn’t even speak. He simply existed and then he died. The whole chapter felt flat and lacking.  
> (2) Prior to 1861, Italy was a collection of states and nobility rule – a mass of kingdoms, princedoms, duchys, and the Papal States. While humans outnumber vampires and lycans and also have taken advantage of several of the supernaturals’ weaknesses – such as sunlight for young vampires, silver for lycans, “dead man’s blood” which is exactly what it sounds like and can make vampires ill – Italy before its unification has a nobility mostly made of vampires and whatever humans live within their states or territories are subject to their ruling.


	3. I Bought Peace with Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Leonard have to stop the production of metahuman detection technology.   
> Leonard knows how they're going to do it.

The Flash did end up becoming a famous icon and a role model for Central City’s metahuman community.

Leonard would have been impressed if he hadn’t known that this was one of the ways it could go.  There had been the off chance that the Flash would be considered a menace and treated as such, but even all three branches of the CCPD seemed grateful for the backup. 

During the day, when he wasn’t working with the HCCPD, Barry began campaigning for the cease-production of Dr. Harrison Wells’ metahuman-detection tech. 

“It will only cause further segregation and discrimination,” Barry told Iris, who wrote an article about it in the _Central City Picture News_.  “This is not a solution, it’s a _problem_.”

After the long rant, Iris then decided to tell Barry some more bad news.

Or, at least, Leonard saw it as bad news.

“Eddie and I are going on a date,” she told Barry, shoulders back, gaze fierce, ready for a fight.

Leonard was impressed.

He was also ready to murder Pretty Boy.

While Leonard had been less involved in the West family than Barry, he still felt a distant paternal connection with them.  Joe would deny it to his dying day, especially since Leonard had been dabbling in jewelry theft during his lifetime and his career on the police force, but they _did_ have a connection.  Leonard would always remember the time a curious young Joe had sat next to him on the couch for a whole hour before looking up at him, nodding, and then getting down and leaving as if that hour had somehow enlightened him to the ways of life. 

They had respect for one another.

His relationship with Iris was slightly easier in that Iris actually regularly spoke to him and knew to come to him if there were issues with Barry or if she had concerns.  Sometimes, Barry would run off for a decade or two to clear his head, to run from one end of the world to the other and help where he could, hide where he could, scream on the edge of a cliff when he could.  Barry could lose track of time doing such things.

After careful consideration, Leonard decided that Eddie Thawne would have to die. 

Having a human and a crusnik together could only end in heartbreak and Leonard would rather Iris’s heart break because Leonard had killed her boyfriend than have it break because Eddie chose to leave her side once she began to age. 

He was already planning out how he would do it, relying heavily on what he knew of Barry, when Barry pulled him aside and threatened him with sleeping on the couch if he went through with it.

“This is murder, Barry,” Leonard growled, “Not one of us forgetting an anniversary.”

“Is this a dig at that time I forgot our anniversary like, thirty years ago?”

“It was _thirty-seven_ years ago, and, no, it was an example.”

“Are you saying that I should make you sleep in a whole other house until I am not angry at you anymore?”

“What I’m saying is –”

“Len,” Barry sighed, and rested his forehead against Leonard’s.  “I don’t want them in a relationship either.  I really don’t.  But Iris is a big girl and I’ve talked to her.  She knows she is going to get older while Eddie doesn’t age and she says that being with him is her choice.  I have to respect that.”

“Eddie is going to let her age?”

“Aging is Iris’s choice too, Len – not Eddie’s.  Living as long as we do – it’s not for her.”

Leonard couldn’t deny that he was right.  An immortal existence was not for everyone.  “How did they meet each other anyway?” Leonard grumbled.

“At the HCCPD,” Barry said.  He nibbled on his bottom lip.  “Eddie transferred there last month.”

“The fact that I didn’t know about this means that you were actively trying to hide it from me.”

“You hate Eddie.”

“Now more than ever.”

“With Dr. Wells’ new tech coming out, I need Eddie around in case things go South.”

“No, you need me around in case things go South.”

“I will always need you,” Barry swore with incredible honesty.  “I will need you when I wake up and when it’s time for lunch and when I’ve had a bad day or a good day.  I will need you before I go to bed, while I’m in bed, and when my nightmares come for me.  I will need you when I don’t want to need anyone and when I need to know everyone is okay.”

Barry kissed him deeply, a claiming.

“Len, I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you’re not going to,” he murmured, though that was not something he should promise.  Anything could happen.  Even if he lived long enough to become an elder, Barry was proof that he still wouldn’t be invincible.  No doubt the love bites he gave Barry were changing him in small ways, like he assumed Eddie’s blood would change Iris, but Leonard was no crusnik.  Even if he was, the rarity of Barry’s species, the murders he had witnessed as a child, were reminders that everyone had a weakness death could exploit.

“So,” Leonard began, changing the subject.  “Wells is still going to come out with his watches?”

Barry sighed.  “Yeah.”

“You haven’t tried sending in Ramon?”

Barry looked crestfallen.  “You know that would never work.”

Leonard doubted that.  Immediately after the particle accelerator explosion which Wells had publicly taken credit for, destroying his credibility, he had divorced Ramon, the leading mechanical engineer on the particle accelerator project and his husband of five years.  Ramon, despondent, had asked for nothing in the divorce.

Wells, eyes caught on Ramon with something like regret and hunger, had still given him the original S.T.A.R. Labs research and development headquarters as well as the mansion they had lived in together.  He had moved his other projects to a smaller branch.

Lisa seemed to be working on taking Ramon for herself, charmed by the lycan’s ability to look her in the eye instead of at her cleavage when he said that she was beautiful.  She thought his pop culture references were dorky and therefore adorable and fed him twizzlers and lollipops. 

Leonard half-expected Wells to come after his sister, but Dr. Harrison Wells hadn’t shown himself to Ramon since he had signed the divorce papers almost two years ago.

Leonard, however, had been a thief and a mayor and a good guy and a bad guy.  Had he broken into Wells’ house and sifted through his belongings, debating whether to trash it and leave a threatening, anonymous note on the wall?  Yes, yes, he had. 

Instead, he had found a photo album. 

A photo album of Wells, Wells’ daughter Jesse, and Ramon.  Some pages even had group photos of Wells, Ramon, Snow, and Snow’s fiancé Raymond, but the main focus appeared to be the family of three. 

Jesse still called Ramon every weekend, he knew, and sometimes came to see him.  It was alarming, how close they were in age, but Ramon had never tried to be Jesse’s second parent.  He had simply aimed for friendship and achieved it.

Jesse always looked like she was biting her tongue when she was with Ramon and Leonard had believed the photo album, and what the photo album stood for, to be the reason why. 

Dr. Harrison Wells was still in love with Cisco Ramon. 

Perhaps Ramon couldn’t convince Wells to stop the tech production, Leonard amended in his own mind, but he could definitely slow down the production rate, push back the release date, give them more time. 

Their chances were even more favorable if Wells knew how the watches would affect Ramon.

“I worry about Cisco sometimes,” Barry admitted into Leonard’s chest.  “I thought they were happy together.”

“They were,” Leonard said.  He rested his chin on top of Barry’s head.  “Here’s the problem: Humans are idiots.”

“Is that an excuse for Dr. Wells?”  He found Barry’s guarded tone curious, but accepted it.  Barry despised having those he cared for hurt in any capacity – and Wells had hurt Ramon deeply.

“If you want to take it as such.”

“But, why?”

“After the explosion, he might have decided that staying married to Ramon would destroy Ramon’s reputation as well as his own.  He might have separated to protect Ramon from the backlash.”

Barry snorted.  “That backfired.”

Which was true.  On top of having to deal with the media hounding him for details about the particular accelerator explosion, he had also been hunted for details on why Wells had divorced him. 

Leonard could remember clearly Ramon’s broken expression when one reporter had stupidly shouted out, “Was it because you simply weren’t _good_ enough?”

Leonard didn’t mind the kid, but he didn’t claim to be emotionally attached to him either.  In that moment, though, Leonard had wanted to do bodily damage to that reporter.

“He might have separated because he realized he couldn’t be in a relationship with a lycan.  He’s already old enough to be Ramon’s dad – no need to add to it by having Ramon live for two hundred years.”

“Age, then?”  Again, an undercurrent of anger gave Barry’s voice more hoarse. 

Leonard cocked his head to the side and frowned.  “Or looks.  Ramon isn’t always going to look human like Wells.  Someday, he’s going to grow fur and become a wolf.”

There was a pause where Leonard could see the tension in Barry’s shoulders.  “Age _and_ looks?”  Barry leaned back enough to give him a fragile smile.  “Wow, what do you see in me?”

“A smart ass and a great ass.”

Barry snorted and hit his shoulder before leaning back into him.  “We can’t let that tech get out.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes in thought.  “Alright.  I’ll see what I can do.”

~::~

Dr. Harrison Wells came home from the new(er) location of the S.T.A.R. Labs at exactly 10:05 in the evening.  Jesse Wells, who lived with her father, was currently having dinner with Ramon and, judging from past experiences, would not be home sooner than midnight as she and Ramon would descend into a movie marathon following a conversation concerning some classic feature.  It was equally likely that she would not return till noon the next day if she chose to fall asleep at Ramon’s and then eat breakfast there. 

Leonard believed that Jesse fell asleep during the movie marathons just so she could stay the night. 

He listened to the front door open two floors down.  The estate was well built, well insulated, with nice thick walls – built with a supernatural in mind.  Every move Wells made was right on the edge of Leonard’s senses and only just because he was focusing so totally on the human’s progression from the foyer to the living area, up two flights of stairs, and then coming down the hall.

Leonard tilted his head.  Wells knew he had a visitor.  He was coming right for his office where Leonard was waiting, without pausing to do anything else.  Leonard knew that every other time he came home, he would turn on the fire in the living room, pour a tumbler of Signet scotch, and then stare into the flames for exactly five minutes before wandering off and dedicating a half hour of his time to making a single mug of champurrado. 

Ramon made champurrado every morning. 

If Wells was taking a break from habit, Leonard could think of only one reason why.  Wells knew he had a guest and was coming to greet him.

The office door opened without a sound and there Wells stood in the archway, hands in his front pockets. 

“The famous Dr. Harrison Wells,” Leonard drawled.  “What an honor.”

“And what is the former mayor of Central City’s vampire community doing in my house?”

So Wells knew of him.

This could make things harder or easier.

Leonard mulled over it before shrugging.  “Went out for a walk.  Your house looked like a fun place to explore.”

“And you just happened to like my office most of all?”

“It seemed like a better idea than raiding your panty drawers.”

Wells nodded as if he could agree with that logic.

“I thank you for that.  My underwear is a private matter.”

“It’s very close to a _private_ matter, you mean.”

Wells’ head tipped back, the only sign that he had not been expecting such a comment.  “You’re awfully crude for such a large figurehead in the vampire community.”

“What can I say, when you live long enough, you develop a… _crude_ sense of humor.”

“Ah,” Wells exclaimed.  “Of course.  And you are three hundred and fifty-two years old now, aren’t you?  It’s strange – you don’t look a day over two hundred.  Vampires already age slowly, and yet you seem to age slower than most.”

“I exfoliate.”  Leonard shrugged.  “I just have that kind of face.”

“Of course you do.”

Leonard was attempting to figure out what security measures he must have tripped on his way up.  He had checked beforehand, Wells had no surveillance system installed in his monstrous estate – strange for someone who had had so many death threats placed against himself as well as exactly nine attempts on his life.  All that stood between the sanctity of his home and a killer was two locks on the front door, one on the back door, and a latch on the cellar door.  The twenty-five windows were locked, but Leonard had seen a metahuman make hail large enough to shatter them. 

Wells was certain, not only of his own safety, but that of his daughter’s.  Leonard had studied him well enough to know that, while strained, his relationship with his daughter was as solid as Leonard’s was with Lisa.  It was the sort of family bond that time and grief could only strengthen. 

Leonard had gone to every house Lisa had owned in all of her years of existence and had made them foolproof.  Lisa had broken into every one of Leonard’s abodes to show him that he was not untouchable.

Wells had apprehended three of the nine individuals charged with attempting to take his life – the three that had been human.  Two others had been metahuman and had died ‘accidentally’, one falling off of the second floor banner of Wells’ estate and the other had crashed her car into a tree during what the HCCPD believed to be a getaway.  Two more had been lycan and the last two vampires – three of them had disappeared after their murder attempts, leaving behind the failed remnants of their schemes, and the fourth had plead guilty to attempted murder and then had been sent to a mental institute for believed insanity. 

Wells had only apprehended the individuals who it was believed he could handle on his own as a human himself.  All the others, all the ones who were supposed to be too strong, too gifted, too fast for him – they suffered.

An idea was beginning to bubble in the back of Leonard’s mind.

Leonard, feet thrown up on the desk, crossed at the ankle, steepled his hands together under his chin and titled his head as he considered Wells.

Wells tilted his head back, an eyebrow shooting up.

“Since you haven’t tried to kill me yet and you’re not currently raiding my ‘panty drawers’, I am to assume that you would like to discuss something.”

“The metahuman detection technology coming out next month,” Leonard clarified.  “I’d like for you to stop production.  You’re a smart man, you ought to know that you are only going to create more problems.”

“You may know that my reputation was destroyed two years ago when the particle accelerator exploded,” Wells told him.  “In trying to rebuild my reputation and my credibility, I have taken on several unfavorable contracts.  The detection watches is one of them.”

There was no shame when he said it, though, no guilt or hesitation.

Perhaps Wells recognized that he was only going to create more issues with the watches.  He just didn’t care.

“How unfortunate,” Leonard drawled.

“Indeed.”  Wells stared at him for a long moment before moving to the side, freeing the archway.  “You cannot convince me to move the release date, so you might as well leave now.”

“I can convince you, actually,” Leonard said.

“I very much doubt it.”

“You’ve been avoiding Ramon.  You know, your ex-husband that you’re still _madly_ in love with.”

Wells’ shoulders went back.  His smile was razor sharp.  “You have been watching me for the past two weeks, haven’t you?  You must think the champurrado is sentimental.”

So Wells had been aware of him.  Leonard filed that away for consideration.

“I know the champurrado is sentimental because Ramon makes it every morning.”

Wells revealed nothing and it was in that stony, blank silence that Leonard read his grief.

“And what does Ramon have to do with all of this?” Wells asked instead.  “Are you going to send him to try to talk me out of this?”

“I believe that there are only two people that could make you do anything, and they would be Cisco Ramon and Jesse Wells.”

Wells titled his head down.  “Where _is_ Jesse?”

“Safe.”  Leonard considered his nails.  “I haven’t kidnapped anyone in over a century.”

“Well, then.  Is Ramon coming or not?”

“No.  He doesn’t even know I’m here.”  Though Leonard would be the first person Ramon would suspect if he ever found out about this.  “He’s beginning to move on, actually – my sister thinks he’s _adorable_.”

Leonard paused.  Their air suddenly felt… _charged_.  Static.  He pulled back the sleeve of his black Henley, making a show of glancing at his watch while taking in the goosebumps forming on his skin.

 _Interesting_.

“I’m glad for him,” Wells was saying.  “He’s young, he should move on.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Leonard said.  “The thought of Ramon with anyone else makes you want to lose control.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

Leonard pulled his Henley back down and assessed Wells again.

The particle accelerator had exploded, the same accelerator Snow and Ramon had been working on with Wells.  Barry, in another country at the time, had immediately sent word that he was coming home to check on them.  He hadn’t seen Ramon since he was a small boy, but that was how deeply he cared for others. 

Ramon told Wells, showing him a picture of his friend, Barry Allen.  Because Barry moonlighted as a human, they had told Ramon to be very careful not to tell anyone about Barry.  Barry had added the clause stating that he could if he _really_ needed to.  That would have been the first time Dr. Harrison Wells would have learned of Barry.

Wells divorced Ramon, retreating from the lycan before Barry Allen even touched ground in America.

Barry Allen had seen Wells in the news, had been angry at Wells on Ramon’s behalf… And had never met Wells face-to-face.  Why?

“If you care so much for Ramon, why did you leave him during one of the worst events of his life?” Leonard asked.  
“Again, I must admit that I don’t know what you mean.”  Wells glanced at his own watch.  “I’m afraid that it’s late and I do have a busy schedule for tomorrow.  I’m going to have to ask you to leave, despite this enlightening conversation.”

“You’re smart enough to know that adding a divorce on top the particle accelerator mishap would destroy not only his credibility and reputation as one of the top mechanical engineers of his generation, but also as an individual.  People blamed him, asking if something _he_ did caused the particle accelerator to fail.  Instead of asking him what his job had been, what he thought had happened, general academic questions, they hounded him for details of your sex life, whether he had failed you in bed, intellectually, in your domestic life together.  They questioned whether or not he had earned his place at S.T.A.R. Labs or if he got through sexual favors.”

“Cisco _earned_ his place,” Wells interrupted, a bite in his tone.  “He is a brilliant man, he did absolutely everything right.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you tell the media that more than once.  You have made some vague attempts to protect him from the paparazzi.  From a distance.”

“I thought you were here to discuss the metahuman detection technology.”

“I was, but this is far more interesting.”  He made an airy motion with one hand.  “Ramon believes that he did something to make you leave – that you blame him for the particle accelerator exploding.  You’ve let him believe that for two years with some poor tokens of gratitude thrown in – a half-debilitated building where he can ruminate about the particle accelerator that had exploded just a few floors beneath his feet and an empty house where he can remember the life he had with you and Jesse.  Charming.”

“Snart, I am going to ask you one last time to leave.”

“Or, what?  You’ll _bite_ me?”  
Wells froze for exactly thirty-two seconds.  Then, slowly, he unwound.  “That would be ridiculous.”

“Do you know Barry Allen?”

“Who?”

“Of course you do,” Leonard answered honestly for him.  “Or else you wouldn’t have ditched Ramon right before Barry came back home.”

“And how would I know Barry?  Ah, perhaps you mean Gradient advocate that has made some appearances in the media.”

Leonard shrugged.  “I think you two go further back than that.  It could have something to do with the fact that you’re both crusniks, it might not.”

He thought Wells would deny it.

But Wells just smiled, took his glasses off, and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt.  “I must have given myself away somehow.  However, I am not surprised that it is Mr. _Allen’s_ eternal other who found me out.  You would be most familiar with our kind.”

“Are you going to try to kill me?” Leonard asked, because he had considered that as he had outed Wells.

Wells had killed before. 

“No,” Wells said.  “That would lead Barry right to my door and we both know it.”

“Which just leaves the question of why you are avoiding him.”

“It can’t be that I avoid other crusniks in general?”

“No.  I’ve seen you interact with Eddie Thawne.”

“Oh?  Is _he_ a crusnik?”

“You’re too smart to not know that he is.”

Wells did not deny that either.

“My, how off topic we have gotten.  Well, you’re not going to expose me unless you also want to expose your lover.  You might try to tell Barry about me, but I would suggest that you avoid that.  The outcome will be less than favorable for all of us.”

“Because Barry knows you.  How he hasn’t recognized you yet from the News, I don’t know.  But if he met you, if he knew what you were, he would know you from somewhere.”

Leonard cocked his head.  “How old are you?”

“It’s not polite to ask a person their age.”

“So, old.  Got it.  Old enough to have been around when Barry’s parents were murdered?”

“Oh, you _are_ clever, aren’t you?”  Wells slipped his glasses back on.  His smile was rueful.  “Would you believe me if I told you I was a different person back then?  An angrier, more violent person?  Of course you would – you’ve been that person too.  You murdered five of the most powerful vampire lineages in Italy almost three hundred years ago.  I believe Barry left you for almost four decades after that.”

“Yes, we all have a past,” Leonard admitted.  “I killed my own kind and you’ve killed your own kind.”

“The difference between us is that Barry will not forgive me.  I am the reason he is an orphan, after all.”

“So, what?  You were angry, you went on a killing spree, and then you had a daughter?”

“I had two children, actually: Jesse and Eobard.  My son cut off all communication with me after he found out about my past massacres.  He then had a son.  That son is Eddie Thawne.” 

Leonard nodded, taking this all in.  Thawne had never eluded to knowing Wells personally, so he must not know of their relation.

“If Barry finds out about you, he will do anything in his power to kill you.”

“And I will fight him.  I am older, more experienced, and much more powerful.  I have no fear of committing murder to ensure my own safety or the safety of my daughter.”

“And that is why I am not going to tell Barry that you are his parents’ murderer,” Leonard guessed.

“That’s right.”

Leonard considered it.  It wouldn’t hold.  Eventually, he would have to tell Barry – but, for now, Wells was right.  If Barry knew, the entire city could very well be destroyed in the fight that would ensue.  He would have to ease Barry into it. 

If Wells killed him now, when Barry knew that he was with Wells, Barry would find him and – judged off of scent, off of watching the way Wells moved off camera, _somehow_ – recognize him.

Barry’s position in his life guaranteed him safe passage, which explained why Wells had not immediately attacked him upon realizing there was an intruder in his house.  The fact that he knew about the massacre and Barry leaving him told Leonard that he had been keeping track of Barry, making sure the young crusnik he had left alive all those centuries ago did not find him and try to exact revenge even if Wells seemed certain that he would defeat Barry.

It was slightly discomforting to know that the secret relationship he had had with Barry for the past three hundred years had not been as secret as he had previously believed.  Always, Wells had watched him and Barry. 

Always, he had been watching _Barry_.

Leonard would probably have made an attempt on his life if he thought it was prepared for it.  At the moment, he had been prepared to have a small chat with a mortal human – not a being strong enough to kill an elder vampire. 

“So,” Wells gestured to the door.  “Will you leave now?  I’m sure, despite failing to accomplish what you came here for, you must feel proud of yourself.  Now would be the best time to leave.”

“You’re right, I haven’t accomplished what I came here for yet.  It’s reassuring to know that your tech never would have revealed Barry’s identity – you would never release tech that would endanger yourself or your daughter – but you’re _still_ going to stop production of the watches and it _is_ because of Ramon.”

Wells sighed a world-weary sigh of someone who had dealt with idiocy for centuries too long.  “Is that so?”

“Statistics are becoming clearer as more metahumans step forward – older vampires and lycans were immune to the explosion due to their unique immune systems.  However…  Younger supernaturals, around Ramon’s age actually, are making up a small percentage of the affected population.  It’s very rare, but, so far, nine cases have shored up of young supernaturals having metahuman abilities.”

It was starting to dawn on Wells, Leonard could see it.

“You _have_ been keeping up with the news, haven’t you?” Leonard asked.

“Of course I have been,” Wells snapped.  “I’m fully aware of the statistics.”

“So you know where I’m going with this.”

“This is a trick.  Cisco is not a metahuman.”

“No,” Leonard agreed.  “He’s a meta _lycan_.  He can manipulate dimensional energy.  He has visions of what we believe to be alternate dimensions and has accidentally even created a doorway to an alternate dimension.  There was a man on the other side who claimed to be The Flash.” And who had also been Barry Allen, Leonard had been able to tell by the mouth, but who had _actually_ been a metahuman in a world where vampires and lycans were just legends and myths.  A very interesting reality that Leonard could not fathom. “He helped us close the doorway.  A true superhero.”

Wells stared at him, as if trying to force him through eye contact alone to admit to falsehoods.

The glaring contest went on for a full minute before Wells straightened himself up.  “I believe I have to go speak to my ex-husband.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you again after you abandoned him for two years.”

“This is the last time I will ask and then I do not care if Barry knows that I am here – _leave_.” 

He sensed the truth in that threat and made a show of casually standing up and sauntering out of the office ahead of Wells.  Having the crusnik at his back made him tense, but he made certain not to show it.

He projected the cool and calm of a person who knew they had the upper hand and were in no danger, even while knowing that Wells could change his mind at any moment and murder him before he could even think to defend himself.

At the front entrance, Wells pulled the door shut behind himself and locked it. 

Knowing that he was a crusnik, it was actually amusing to watch.  Barry never bothered to lock the door. 

What were intruders going to do?  Try and shoot him?  Steal their furniture?  They had lived so long – and Barry more than twice as long as him – that they routinely donated the furniture and electronics in their house before they upgraded and sometimes they even gave away the house as well. 

Wells did not share his humor. 

“Good night, Snart,” Wells said in a tight voice.  “I hope we won’t be meeting like this again anytime soon.”

Leonard shrugged, mostly because he was deciding that he really fucking hated Wells. 

Barry had stood guard over his parents’ tomb for four hundred years.  Leonard had to make himself believe that, if it wasn’t for Wells, they never would have met.  Otherwise, the urge to plan the crusnik’s murder for destroying Barry’s youth would be too powerful.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

He wanted to go ahead of Wells, warn Ramon, hide Ramon so that Wells could never find him.  The idea of Wells seeing the man he loved and even being happy for a single _second_ made Leonard want to snap out.

But he forced himself to stand still as Wells blurred and sped away, twice as fast as any vampire Leonard had ever seen.  He ran even faster than Barry. 

No, he could definitely not tell Barry about Wells.  Barry would get himself killed going after the other crusnik.

And he could not get between Wells and Ramon.  Wells had been right about one thing and Leonard had agreed with him – Wells had killed his own kind and Leonard had killed his own kind.

Doubtlessly, there were vampires in Europe, maybe in the Americas now, who wanted Leonard’s head, his suffering, for killing their parents, their cousins, their uncles, their aunts, _their children_. 

Wells was the monster who haunted Barry’s dreams, but Leonard did not doubt that he himself haunted the dreams of his own kind.  It was one reason why he had not run for a fourth term as mayor.  Someone had uncovered his origins in what was now called Italy and had printed it in the Sunday papers.  It would have been a matter of time before they discovered his family lineage and his relation to the infamous and hated Louis Sarto.  They would have realized that Leonard had murdered his sire and then every ally lineage his sire had had in Europe.  The scars on his body and mind had been fresher then.  With Barthélémy and Elisabetta on his right and left, he had become strong, but he had also become embittered.

Elisabetta had stood by him, had helped him invade every estate and had watched his back.

Barthélémy had retreated, had been horrified, at the murder of mothers and fathers and children.  Feeding on and killing a corrupt elder had made him mournful in itself, and he hadn’t been able to condone their actions.

He had left.  Later, Elisabetta had gone looking for him and had brought him back.  Leonardo had been slipping and falling, thirsty for revenge, hateful, not immortal, but not carrying to stay alive.  He had taken unnecessary risks and committed multiple crimes, from the murder of humans to the murder of vampires to theft and property damage. 

His sister and his lover had had to pull him back, had had to piece him together again. 

Leonard knew a thing or two about hurting others, about killing without remorse.  So he let Wells go and held on with both hands to the part of himself that said that letting Wells anywhere near Ramon was a bad idea.

Lisa would be upset if they got back together – _if_ – and she wouldn’t be the only one.  But maybe this could give Ramon some closure.

After two years, Ramon deserved at least that.

~::~

To Be Continued…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be mostly of Harry and Cisco.


	4. To Love That Will Never Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harrison Wells hasn't seen Cisco Ramon in almost two years. It's time to break the silence and go home.

Cisco pulled a blanket and pillow out of the closet and properly tucked Jesse in.  The woman had fallen asleep on his couch after another scifi movie marathon. 

This had happened so many times that Cisco wasn’t sure if it was an accident or not.  She would still be there when he woke up and would eat the breakfast he made with a happy, bittersweet smile on her face.

“I know I don’t look it,” she had told him once, “but I – feel – as if I’ve lived a long life.  I don’t really connect with a lot of people, but…”  Her eyes had gotten a little wet.  “I love you.  I miss you.  I haven’t missed anyone like this since my – since my mom passed away.”

He’d been heartbroken for her and somehow rejuvenated.

Maybe Harry hadn’t wanted to keep him, but at least Jesse did. 

They’d hugged each other for a long time after that talk.  He was glad that he had made such an impression on Jesse because she had made an impression on him too.  She wasn’t his daughter, per say, but he loved her as dearly as she seemed to love him.

Sometimes, her coming over and staying the night was what made him ready to face the next day.  He could smile and joke all he wanted, but some days hurt more than others.  Some days, he wanted to stay in bed and hide under the covers and other days, he wanted to burn his house and S.T.A.R. Labs to the ground and watch it all turn to ashes. 

He didn’t have as many bad days as he used to, but, off and on, they would sneak up on him.

Today had actually been a good day, though, and Jesse coming over had made it a _best_ day.  The fact that she was staying the night hopefully meant that he would have a good morning too.  He missed cooking for her and Harry.  He had made them hot champurrado and traditional dishes every morning like his _abuela_ had taught him and their satisfaction and happy hums had made him feel like the domestic part of his life was only _slightly_ less enjoyable than his job.

The job and domestic life he had _used_ to have, anyway.  Now he had a broken down building and a mansion full of memories.  Harry’s lawyers had tried to offer him a pension as well, a steady income, but Harry was already paying for the two properties and that was already more than Cisco wanted from him.

He had his own savings that he had lived off of for awhile before taking a part-time job with the LCCPD, developing better body armor, prison cells, and overall surveillance and security systems.  Sometimes, he even worked with the Geek Squad at Best Buy. 

He had made more money working with Harry than he had ever needed and that had only increased during their marriage where bills would disappear before he could even glance at them.

He went to cleaning dishes, ignoring the twinge in his chest.

He missed his job, his life, his _fucking husband_. 

But it was alright.  Cisco was used to not being wanted.  Even before his pack had disowned him for marrying a human, they had been looking for reasons to kick him out.  Lone wolf, they had said, black wolf, not as good as his _hermano_ , strange, unusual, _weird_.  When he had begun dating Harry, he had known it was the end.  His _abuela_ , the only elder of their pack who had stood by his side, had passed away at that point, and his parents were ashamed to claim him. 

No, Cisco was no stranger to not being wanted.  To be honest, he should have seen it coming.

It had completely blindsided him. 

After five years, he had thought, he had _believed_ , that Harry was his till his dying days.  He had been preparing himself for watching Harry age and pass away, but, apparently, he had been preparing himself for nothing.

He stopped scrubbing at an oven pan, took a deep breath, and focused on staying calm.

“I need to stop putting myself down like this,” He muttered to himself, quiet enough not to wake up Jesse.  After living with her and Harry for five years, he had learned just how keen their hearing was.

It was almost supernatural.

But then it turned out he shouldn’t have bothered.  At that moment, someone rang the doorbell and Jesse shot off of the couch, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It’s just the door,” Cisco told her, drying his hands on his shirt.  “No need to hit the panic button.”

Jesse gave her a wild look before composing herself.  “Right.  Just the door.”  She nodded.  Taking the pillow in one hand, she held the blanket to her chest with the other.  “Can I go to sleep in my old room?”

Her _old room_ , as if he didn’t keep it clean just for her.

He smiled.  “Of course!  What do you want for breakfast?”

She opened her mouth, but the knocking came again, more demanding.  “Whatever you make is fine.  You better go get that.”

With those strange words, she speed-walked through the living room, up the stairs, and out of sight.

Frowning, confused by her behavior, he went to the door.

It was almost eleven.  That should narrow down the list of possible door knockers, but, really, it could be any of his friends.  It could be _Lisa_.

Cisco flushed and felt uncomfortable.

He wished he could like Lisa half as much as she seemed to like him.

Wow, he was a mess.

He threw open the door.  “Welcome to my humble – ” he took in his guest and his heart tripped.  “abode…”

Harry was standing in front of him.  This was the closest he had been to his ex-husband in almost two years and all Cisco could do was look into familiar blue eyes and drink in the familiar scent of his cologne. 

Wow, two years and he was still wearing the same cologne?

 _Dweeb_.

But, Cisco guessed that when something worked, there was no reason to fix it – and Harry smelled as good now as he had then.

For a long, awkward moment, they just stared at each other. 

“So,” Harry began, and why did his voice sound so rough?  Why was he looking at Cisco like that?  Like he used to?  Like he actually _cared_ for Cisco?

He obviously did not care.

“I had an interesting visitor tonight,” Harry continued.  “He gave me a good reason for why I should discontinue the production of the metahuman detection technology.”

 _Leonard_.

Cisco was going to kill him.  First, he was going to find a way to blame Harry for it, and then he was going to kill him.  Barry would never have to know.

“Really?  Did that someone tell you it was because, underneath that _dickish_ personality of yours, you actually have a heart?”

Cisco was only a little bitter.

 _Just a little_.

But Harry just _smiled_ , like this was a good sign, and stepped right. Into. Cisco’s. Space.

They were sharing the same air now and Cisco didn’t know how to handle it – the thought that if he just took a deep breath, his chest would touch Harry’s.  If he twitched forward, if he tipped toward Harry, they would make contact.

“I think,” Cisco said, “I want to kill you.”

“You’re angry,” Harry mumbled.  “Which is understandable.”

“Damn right it’s understandable!” Cisco snapped, suddenly furious.  “You _left_!  What are you doing here, really?  Suddenly, you find out I’m a metalycan and now I’m your goddamned business again?!  Wouldn’t it just _suck_ for you if everyone found out that your ex-husband was _artificial_.”

“Don’t,” Harry said, voice severe.  “Do not insult yourself like that.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard what everyone has been saying about me,” Cisco growled, teeth loose and itchy in his gums as they prepared to fall out and make room for sharper, deadlier fangs.  “But _artificial_ won’t even make the top ten list of most insulting names I’ve been called in the past two years.”

Harry shuddered.  “Cisco –”

Cisco stepped away as Harry reached for him.  “What do you _want_ from me?!” Cisco yelled.  “Why are you here?”

“I want you,” Harry whispered.  “I want you to be safe.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that.  Are you sure?  Because, so far, it seems like you’ve just wanted to forget about me and _I_ thought you were doing a pretty good job up until tonight.”

“I make champurrado every night before I go to bed,” Harry said, and Cisco bit back a sob.  “It’s the same recipe you showed me, but I keep having to adjust it because it doesn’t taste the same as how you made it.”

“You know you’re not supposed to have it right before you go to bed, right?” Cisco said, floored.  “It’s meant to give you energy.”

“I don’t sleep well at night.”

Cisco couldn’t stop a short, bitter laugh from escaping.  “I guess some things never change.”

“Cisco…”  Harry stepped toward him again.

Cisco stepped away.

“I understand that you’re angry at me, and that I have been incredibly shortsighted these past two years…  But I have also inadvertently placed you in danger’s way.  I can hold off the release date on the tech – ”

“Just because of me?” Cisco asked, voice small.

Harry paused.  “Of course.  Cisco, I –”

“Not because of all the other lives you would put in danger if the tech was released?”

Harry fell silent.

Cisco snorted.  “I don’t get you.  You act like you care, but you really don’t, do you?”

“I care about you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“ _Cisco_ ,” Harry growled.  “Do not tell me who I do and do not care for.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to believe!”

“And I understand that!” Harry took a deep breath and released it.  “I understand that I have given you no reason to believe in me.  Cisco, in a world where I care for little else, I do…  I do love you.  I have been a very poor husband to you.  I have no reason to come back now and try to fix things, but you _are_ in danger and all the reasons I had for staying away mean nothing if you are hurt because of me.”

Cisco looked him right in the eye.  Those beloved, beautiful eyes that had snagged him more than seven years ago at his interview at S.T.A.R. Labs.  He hadn’t wanted to fall in love with his boss – he hadn’t _asked_ to, hadn’t asked for his boss to return his feelings, hadn’t asked for their affair or their engagement or their marriage.  But he had gotten it all anyway and then had it all taken away.

“It’s too late for that, Harry,” he hissed.  “Out of everyone that has hurt me in my life, you’re right up there with my pack.”

 _They left_.

 _Harry left_.

“Maybe you really do care about me,” Cisco amended, “but you didn’t care enough to stay.”

Unlike Jesse.  Jesse didn’t live with him anymore but she hadn’t _really_ left either.  She came back.  She stayed the night.  She ate the food he made.  They laughed together and held each other.

Harry had just been gone.  Like a gaping hole in Cisco’s life, he just hadn’t been there.

“Go to Hell, Harry.”

For a moment, it looked like Harry would leave, and Cisco turned his face down so that he wouldn’t have to watch him walk away _again_.

That was why he didn’t know Harry was coming closer until the older man’s arms were already around him. 

“I know better than to ask that we jump right back into a relationship – there is too much in the way of that right now.  But if I leave, you will never believe that I wanted to stay.”

He tried to hold himself back, to stay as still and cold as ice, but Harry’s heat and chest and arms were painfully familiar and missed.  He shuddered and his body relaxed against his will, leaning into Harry.

“Let’s start with being friends again,” Harry murmured into his hair.  “In time, we can rebuild what we had.”

Like S.T.A.R. Labs?

And that was just _too_ much.

The vibration began in his chest, like a strange fluttering next to his heart.  And then it spread out from there, resonating inside of his skin until it was _outside_ and –

 _Harry stood in front of him – not him, not_ them _– this Other-Cisco was crying._

_“You’re incredibly clever, Cisco.  I’ve always said so.”_

_“You’re him,” The Other-Cisco whimpered.  “The Reverse-Flash.”_

_The Reverse-Flash?  But Barry was the Flash and there was that Other-Flash they had met, the Other-Barry, and this was the Reverse-Flash, but he was_ Harry _–_

“Come back to me, Cisco.” 

He gasped and clutched at his chest.  It hurt for some reason.  It _ached_.  Looking up, coming back to the present – _his_ present – he was still in Harry’s arms.

Harry was stroking his hair, watching him curiously.  “Where were you?” He asked softly.

Cisco shook his head.  “Not – not here.”  He paused.

How much had Leonard told him?

“I was told that you were having visions of alternate dimensions,” Harry said, as if reading his mind.  “Among other things.”

Cisco was _definitely_ going to kill Leonard.

“They’re intense, I see,” Harry continued.  “We’re going to have to find a way to give you control of them.  It’s not good that they can take you over on a whim.”

“It’s usually when I’m touching something or someone,” Cisco muttered.  “The visions relate to whatever I’m touching.  We call it vibing.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.  He thought Harry was going to ask what he had vibed, but what he said instead was, “We?  You mean, you and Dr. Snow.”

“And Barry and – the Snarts.”  He had almost said Lenny and Lisa.  He hadn’t met Lisa till recently – which he understood, vampires weren’t known to stay in one place for too long unless they were elders and had settled down – but Lenny had been Cisco’s way to get in contact with Barry whenever Barry was away.  When Cisco hadn’t wanted to be home, he’d run away to Lenny’s, even though looking at Lenny’s face used to make him cry sometimes because he thought the vampire was going to kill him.

Anything had been better than being home back then.

No one knew about that, though.  Lenny and Barry had both been infrequent in his life, dropping by every once in awhile to see how he was doing and how he had grown.  Harry had never met them and Cisco hadn’t talked about them a lot, or even at all, until after the particle accelerator had exploded.  He’d needed them, then, like he had needed them when he’d been ten and one of his cousins had pushed him into the river.  Lenny and Barry had saved his life that day and he loved them.

That was why he knew he wasn’t allowed to be so familiar with Lenny in public.  He was a well known vampire figurehead.  And he knew he couldn’t let anyone know of Barry and Lenny being in a relationship. 

Barry was, for all intent and purposes, ‘human’.  It wouldn’t work out well for everyone to find out that he’d been in a relationship with Lenny for over three hundred years.

Telling Harry about Barry had been a sign that he’d really been about to break down.  He’d wanted to tell Harry about Barry and Lenny and crusniks and he’d wanted to just stop having _secrets_.  It’d been five years and their life’s work was crumbling around them – it was then or never.

Turned out to be never because Harry left before Barry even touched down in America.

“The Snarts,” Harry echoed.  “Leonard and Lisa, yes?  I hear that Lisa is quite fond of you.”

He was going to _kill_ Leonard.  And Barry was going to hold the damn vampire down to let him do it or else Cisco was putting hot sauce in his suit!

He almost took the bait, too, and he saw it for what it was.  Harry was asking if he was still available.  Harry was asking if Cisco had moved on or not.  No matter how much Cisco wanted to take it and use Lisa like a shield, he knew that wouldn’t be right.  Lisa deserved better than that.

“You can tell her all about how bad of an idea that is,” he grumbled instead.

His hands, resting on Harry’s chest, actually _felt_ Harry jerk.

“Oh, Cisco.  I really have hurt you, haven’t I?”

Steeling himself, he glared up at Harry.  “More than you can ever make up for.”

Harry shook his head.  “The only way to know for certain is to try.  I do not give up so easily.”

“You have before.”

“And now I’m back.”

“You _left_.  I had to deal with a paparazzi _shitstorm_ because my husband divorced me the same week the particle accelerator exploded and affected over fourteen thousand civilians, creating a whole new community of genetically altered humans, and began another civil war in Central City!  And everyone blamed _me_ for it because I was the lead mechanical engineer and, despite every investigator saying that the foundation was sound, everyone kept saying that _I_ must have done something wrong and when you left, they said that I was – ” _broken_.  He choked on the words.  _Phony.  Fake.  Stupid.  An idiot._

_A whore._

_Gold digger._

_Murderer._

_Killer._

_“Was it because you simply weren’t_ good _enough?”_

“They said a lot of things,” Cisco whispered, and pushed against Harry’s chest until the older man let him go.  “You should go.”

“I won’t touch you again,” Harry murmured.  “Not without your permission.  I won’t pressure you for more than your company right now.”  He looked like he was about to do something incredibly painful.  “Please,” he said, and Cisco wheeled back, shocked.  “Let me stay.  Just for a little while.  For a cup of champurrado.”

 _Harry just said please_.  The last time Cisco had heard him say please, he had asked Cisco to marry him.  “I don’t have any champurrado made right now, and it’s late.”

“ _Please_ ,” Harry asked again, and Cisco cursed at him even as he spun on his heel toward the kitchen.

“One cup!  And you are going to sit at the table and be quiet and not say a word!”

Harry, a tiny smile curling his lips, followed him silently. 

For the half hour it took to make the damn champurrado, Cisco grumbled and griped, making sure Harry heard every complaint and whine.  Harry didn’t rebuke him once and he wasn’t sure if that made him angrier or if it was all therapeutic. 

There had been so many things he had wanted to say to Harry these past two years. 

When he went to pour the champurrado from the pot to two mugs, Harry finally spoke.

“I always did that part.”

Cisco let loose a high-pitched noise of annoyance and exasperation.  “Then _do_ it!”

He rounded the table one way while Harry went around the other way.  It was dangerous to get too close to Harry.

It reminded him all too well of how good it had felt to be close to him, how it was almost empowering to stand shoulder to shoulder with the renowned genius, the brain behind several revolutionizing creations and cures, his _lover_ and _significant other_.

Now he was just exhausted and wanted Harry to leave.  This was too confusing and overwhelming.

Harry found out that he was a metalycan and now he wanted back in Cisco’s life?  He couldn’t make sense of it.  At least Jesse had stayed upstairs for the whole ordeal.

He wondered if Jesse had known who was at the door.  She sure had sped off in a hurry.

He stared up at the ceiling as he thought about it, Harry’s back to him as he poured.

Harry himself was falling into an old routine – one he hadn’t partaken in for almost two years. 

He poured the champurrado, like he used to do every morning while Cisco chatted with a sleepy Jesse at the same table Cisco now sat at.  Then, Cisco distracted, he nipped at his wrist.  Just a little wound.

Just a little blood.

Vampire blood to other vampires was lacking, like giving zero-calorie sweetener to a hummingbird.  It wasn’t nourishing or fulfilling, and so vampires did not feed on other vampires beyond the occasional ‘love bite’. 

Humans did not feed on humans because that was cannibalism and heavily frowned upon in most societies presently.

Lycans did not eat other lycans because it was known to lead to a Wendigo Complex, or a disease where lycans murdered and fed on others of their own kind indiscriminately.

Crusniks, however, were the universal donors of the communities.  They could feed one another, though not indefinitely.  They could also feed humans, lycans, and vampires.  By ingesting crusnik blood, other superaturals and humans aged notably more slowly and their healing factor increased exponentially. 

Of course, Harry had learned this all a very long time ago.  Long ago, when everyone had known of crusniks and had feared or respected them – usually both. 

Crusniks had led to their own downfall in that time and it was why Harry had done all that he had done.  It was why he had such a long trail of bodies that would forever follow him.

But not Cisco’s.  His blood dripped into his ex-husband’s champurrado.

Cisco would never die.

~::~

“You talked to him?” Barry asked, turning over in bed toward him. 

Leonard paused and stared.  Bathed in moonlight, his chest bare and the dark blue sheets twisted around his waist and legs, Barry was quite a sight.

“Yes,” he remembered to say, changing trajectory so that he flopped over Barry instead of on his own side of the bed.

Barry accepted his weight with a pleased hum and lifted his hands, lazily pushing them under his head and pillow.  It was one way he made certain not to grab hold of Leonard in his sleep.  Nothing could make Leonard wake up fighting faster than suddenly feeling a hand on his shoulders or an arm around his waist.

Even Barry, for being an incredible fast healer, had once gone six hours with the side of his face looking like he had tried to kiss a moving semi-truck.

“How did it go?” Barry murmured, more than half-asleep.

Leonard thought about all the things he couldn’t tell Barry yet.  Did Barry have the right to know?  Yes.

Would Barry hate him when he found out that Leonard knew who his parents’ murderer was and had kept it from him?  For decades, most likely.  Maybe even centuries.  Leonard might be an elder before he saw Barry again after that particular fight.

But Leonard did not doubt that Central City would crumble if Barry tried to fight Harry and, to be totally honest, he wasn’t sure Barry would win.

Harry had killed Barry’s parents when Barry had been a child.  His parents had been five hundred year old crusniks.  Yet one crusnik – Harry – had taken them both on and won.

He pressed a kiss to Barry’s throat and nipped at his adam’s apple.  Barry chuckled. 

“I believe I made it clear to him that it would be in his best interest to stop production of the tech.”

For a few minutes, he thought Barry had gone back to sleep.  And then he went tense beneath Leonard.

“Did you tell him about Cisco?” Barry asked, alarmed, eyes wild.

“It worked.”

“That wasn’t your secret to tell!”

“Cisco was never going to.”

“And that would be his right.”

“Barry.”  He levered himself up so that he could look down at Barry.  “It breaks my black heart to say this, but they still love each other.”

He and Harry were the same sort of monster, he reminded himself.

If someone else ever tried to stand between him and Barry, he would make them suffer.

Cisco and Barry were going to be hurt very badly before the end of all this, and Lisa wasn’t going to be happy either, but Leonard had to think about what was best, not only for them, but for Central City.

For monsters like him and Harry, they needed someone to ground them.  He had Lisa and Harry had Jesse, but two heads had proven to be better than one and there was proof – pictures and videos and donations and scholarships worth of proof – that said that Harry had been better with Cisco by his side, just like Leonard was with Barry. 

“We’ve made mistakes,” he told Barry.  “You’ve been angry at me and you have threatened to kill me, but at the end of the day, you’ve always come back home to me.  I talked to Wells, just like I said I would, and I know that the metahuman detection technology will at the least be delayed long enough for Wells to come up with a decent excuse for dissolving whatever contract is holding him to the project.” 

“Because he cares for Cisco too much to make him a target of terrorism,” Barry muttered dubiously.

“Exactly.”

“That still doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” he agreed.  “I didn’t say I made the right choice.  I made the best choice.”

“You make me nervous when you say that,” Barry admitted.  “You said something like that to me before you went Van Helsing in Europe.”

And Leoanrd still did not regret that.

“Go back to sleep, Barry.”

“Len?”

“Yes, Barry?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Barry kissed the tip of his noise.  “I still love you.  Even when you’re being an asshole.  And I expect you to apologize to Cisco tomorrow.”

“You want me to stay still and let him kill me while I’m at it?”

Barry, falling back asleep, smiled a little.  “Would help.”

“Cute.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“A child.”

“Yours,” Barry corrected with a sigh.  He nuzzled Leonard’s shoulder.  “I’m yours.”

Leonard closed his eyes and savored the moment.

With the shitstorm coming up on the horizon, he had to treasure the small things.

After Barry found out the secrets he was holding, he might never get to have them again.

~::~

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last chapter!


	5. Ruminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a lot to think about, but it's now or never to face his demons.

Barry had first seen Dr. Harrison Wells in a newspaper article. 

_BRILLIANT SCIENTIST PLANS TO BUILD FIRST PARTICLE ACCELERATOR_

But Barry hadn’t read the article.  He had stared at the photo of an older man posed with his hands steepled under his chin, blue eyes staring into the camera, and had remembered – a little bit at a time, beginning with _Huh, he looks familiar_ , and then with sudden, painful clarity – those same blue eyes turning red right before his mother’s body had fallen to the ground.

 _Murderer_.

He wasn’t going to lie – he had almost gone after Wells then and there.  Wells was so close – in the same city as Len – and Barry had wanted to pull his heart out of his chest and strangle it with his bare firsts while the older man watched.

And then he remembered Europe, slipping on blood and organs as he called out for Leonardo.

He remembered the abyssal depths of Leonardo’s eyes when he had finally found him, crouched over the body of the last living vampire on the entire estate except for Leonardo and Elisabetta.  And then even that vampire died as Leonardo drew his blade across her throat.

“What have you done?” he had asked, but he had known.

Leonardo had exacted vengeance.  The crimes committed by the old vampire lineages of Europe had been numerous and terrifying.  To Leonardo, however, their greatest crime had been their support of the Duke Tassi and his sire Louis.

Leonardo had hated them all and then he had gotten rid of them.

Barry hated Dr. Harrison Wells, but the blank mask on Leonardo’s face after he had murdered several vampire lineages was fresher in his memory than the brutal deaths of his parents almost eight hundred years ago.

He had only recently returned to America after some years away, but he had kissed Len goodbye again and left.  He had to think.

He had to think about what he really wanted from Dr. Harrison Wells.  Was it his death?  His remorse?  Did he want Wells to remember him, to remember what he had done to his family so long ago?  Did he want Wells to suffer?

Wells’ marriage to Cisco Ramon, a lycan Barry and Len had cared for in his youth, had been on national television.  At that point, he had thought that Wells was mocking him.  That Wells knew of Barry and Len’s part in Cisco’s childhood.  Wells must have wanted to hurt Barry in some way, so he had taken someone Barry cared for.  Was it a hostage situation?  Was Cisco forced to return to Wells’ estate and serve him like a slave under threat?  Or had Wells fooled Cisco into believing that he actually cared for him, using him like an unknowing shield?

He’d been ready to fly back home immediately to protect Cisco when he’d actually watched the footage of the wedding.

Wells had looked at Cisco like the moon was rising in him.

He looked at Cisco like Barry and Len looked at each other.

Barry had traveled deeper into Europe, confused and angry.

Wells was a crusnik and Cisco was a lycan – Wells was going to outlive Cisco by centuries, by millennia – what was Wells _thinking_?  Barry knew that crusnik blood had some effect on vampires after Len had given him several (hundred) love bites over the centuries, but would it have a similar effect on lycans?  Was that something Cisco would _consent_ to?

He got lost in the mountains and screamed at the top of his lungs for days.

What was Wells _doing_?

He was a killer.

He was a murderer.

He had _killed Barry’s parents_!

But every time he thought he was going to fly back to America and kill Wells, rid the world of him, he remembered Len.  
Leonardo.

Embittered and hateful.

 _Why_ did Wells kill Barry’s parents?

Could he forgive Wells like he had forgiven Len?

A large part of himself screamed _no_ , but the tiniest voice in his head said _try_.

It had been almost eight hundred years, his tired heart supplied.  What did Barry’s parents even look like again?

That was the problem – In a moment, Barry had remembered Wells’ eyes, but, for the eternal life of him, he could not remember what color his own parents’ eyes had been.  He remembered flashes of color, laughter, their warmth as they held him.  He remembered their screams, their blood on the ground, them _dying_.

If he ever came across any survivors from Len’s massacres, he would want them to try to forgive Len.  He would understand if they couldn’t, would mourn with them because what Len had done had been horrible and terrifying. 

And then he would defend Len, because he _knew_ what had made Len do the things he did.  That did not in any way makes his actions excusable, but Len had never asked for excuses.  He had moved on.  He had committed smaller crimes here and there – theft, mostly – but he had made himself better.

He had made himself better than the monsters inside of him, than his sire, than the vampire lineages that would have destroyed him.

Barry had to wonder if Wells was making himself better.

A particle accelerator could better the quality of life for all communities all across the world and could lead to incredible and unthinkable scientific discoveries.

He had a daughter he loved and a husband too.

But an echo was caught inside of Barry, an echo that had survived the sands of time.

 _Murderer_.

Barry was still thinking about it when Cisco called him.

The accelerator particle had exploded.

Please come home?

He didn’t give himself time to think about it.

He thought to himself, time to meet Harrison Wells.

Apparently not.

Wells left and Barry hated him even more.

The urge to go to Wells and kill him was almost overpowering.  He’d even gone to his house once, trashed it, and then found a photo book – _the_ photo book.  Photos of Cisco and Jesse and even Caitlin filled the album entirely.  The binding on the album was weak, heavily creased, and Barry knew that it wasn’t even a gift Wells had received once and then forgotten about.

This was something that Wells regularly pulled out and looked through.  In every photo, Wells looked like a patient father, merely entertaining his silly children.  Barry stared at an image of Jesse with her arms around Cisco’s and Wells’ shoulders for a long time, the two men leaning into each other for a chaste kiss while Jesse made a silly face over their heads. 

Barry couldn’t understand Wells.

He couldn’t understand his reasoning, his motives, or his morals.  He just couldn’t figure him out and he hated Wells, _hated_ him, but a part of him felt like he already knew him.

Like he knew himself, the part of himself that saw the same crimes committed century after century and whispered, cruelly, that he could fix that if he just stopped caring about every individual life. 

Like he knew Len, who had been hateful and angry and had killed.  Who he and Lisa had had to pull out of the darkness and back into the light.

Even like Mick, Len’s best friend, who they had found when he was just a teenager, a pissed off pyromaniac lycan with no pack.

Wells had killed Barry’s parents.

 _Murderer_.

 _Killer_.

Barry put everything back.  By the time he left, it was as if he had never even been in Wells’ lonely and cold mansion.

He couldn’t understand Wells.

He still didn’t understand Wells.

But wanting to understand Wells, wanting to kill him, wanting to not want to kill him, did not mean that he was ready for the sight of Wells and Jesse at Cisco’s dining room table.

Wells was watching the archway, eyes finding him as soon as he was within sight, and Barry knew.

Wells recognized him.  Eight hundred years later, _Wells remembered him_.  If he remembered Barry, he had to remember killing his parents.

Wells stood from the table, hands flat against the wood.  Cisco and Jesse, heads tilted toward one another while they joked and tittered, looked curiously to the older man.  The cursory glance Jesse gave him told Barry that she most likely had no clue who he was outside of the times he had shown up on the news as a Gradient ally. 

Cisco looked up to Wells like he was learning to fall in love with him all over again before he turned and saw them in the archway.

“Hey, you guys made it!”

Caitlin and her partner, Ronnie, younger than her and more human-looking, sauntered in from the kitchen, carrying a steaming dish of marshmallow yams.

Mick’s head perked up.  “That have maple syrup?”

Ronnie smiled at the lycan.  “Of course!”

“It looks delicious,” Iris said, walking around Barry and Len.  Eddie happily pulled out a chair for her and then himself, smiling dopily. 

“Thanks for inviting me, Cisco.”

“No probs,” Cisco said, stealing a molten marshmallow from atop the yams.  He jerked when Mick barked at him but still sucked the marshmallow into his mouth.  “Deal with it!”

“Cisco, it’s not time yet,” Caitlin admonished him.

“Just a few more minutes,” Ronnie added, coming back in with a huge platter of ham. 

Eddie’s smile slipped when Joe pointedly took the seat right next to him, giving him a warning look.

Joe easily intimidated Eddie, and Joe liked to keep it that way, especially with Eddie dating his daughter.

Joe still didn’t know that Eddie was a crusnik.  Iris did, though, and she hid her smile by sipping the wine Jesse doled out for her. 

It was all so domestic.  Eddie and Cisco disappeared into the kitchen to help bring out food and the dining room became abuzz with conversation and laughter.  The atmosphere was only slightly tense as Lisa sauntered in and took a seat next to Mick. 

No one was really sure what the status of Cisco’s and Wells’ relationship was.  They seemed to be on friendly terms, but the look in their eyes when they found each other, even in the dining room, spoke volumes on how impossible it was for them to just be friends.

Admittedly, the chatter _was_ slightly stilted.  After all, Caitlin and Ronnie had been employees of Wells before the particle accelerator incident.  When Wells had moved locations, he had offered them their jobs back, and they had taken them, but more often than not, they seemed to be paid for maintaining the original S.T.A.R. Labs headquarters that Wells had left with Cisco. 

Everyone else was fully aware of Wells leaving Cisco during one of the worst periods of the younger man’s life and were obviously not altogether certain of how to treat Wells now that they were all crowded around the dinner table on Christmas Eve.

Only Jesse seemed totally comfortable with having Cisco and Wells in the same room – and happy about it. 

For a moment, Barry saw with vivid clarity the whole dinner becoming a bloodbath – Wells blood, flowing across the table, dyeing the golden and white marshmallows on the yam casserole red, turning the ham and turkey sour, indiscernible from the homemade cranberry sauce.  He saw the white tablecloth and rainbow-colored placemats become crimson, stained for life.

He saw Wells dying and his hand in Wells’ chest, the thing that finally killed the monster who had taken his parents away.

Wells moved away from the table and toward him.  His face was set, emotionless, and he stopped within arm’s reach of Barry.

By Barry’s side, Len was tense, shifting just slightly so that he was partially between Barry and Wells.

 _He knew_.

Len knew about Wells.

Len wouldn’t try to protect him from a human, or a lycan, or even a vampire.  Len wouldn’t try to protect just anyone from Barry.  Len knew of Barry’s abilities, of his no-kill code, and very rarely, if ever, interrupted Barry in tense moments.

A tense moment quite like this, where the air was static.

 _Murderer_.

 _Killer_.

“Hey, Barry?” Cisco’s voice pierced the rage overwhelming him.  The young lycan was approaching them, a platter of devilled eggs in his arms.  He looked concerned and stood next to Wells, right across from Len.  “Is everything okay?”

Wells gently pushed Cisco toward the dinner table with one arm, mirroring Len’s movement to place himself between Cisco and Barry.

As if Barry was a threat to Cisco.

As if Barry would attack the people Wells loved like Wells had done to him almost a millennia ago.

“Everything’s fine, Cisco,” Wells told him.  “Barry and I just need a moment of privacy.”

“Define _privacy_ ,” Cisco said, giving the dining room a telling glance.  Silence had descended.

Everyone was watching them.

Including Len, there were only three people in the room who knew that Wells had killed Barry’s parents.

To everyone else, Barry might just be angry over Wells leaving Cisco, over having the audacity to come back.  Barry might even be angry on Lisa’s behalf.  Lisa had liked Cisco and didn’t often come across someone she held genuine affection for, only to find that Cisco was not capable of returning her feelings because hearts could be incredibly idiotic and self-injurious and Cisco’s was set on the dick who had abandoned him two and a half years ago.

Those were good reasons to be angry.

“You’re right,” Wells said.  “Barry and I will move to another room.”

“No.”

Wells eyes snapped to him, as did Len’s.

“Barry…” Len began, and his hand, when it circled Barry’s wrist, was firm and warm and grounding.

 _Murderer_.

 _Killer_.

_Why?_

“Cisco looks like he might forgive you for being an asshole,” Barry said out loud.  He forced himself to smile and held out a hand.  “I don’t know if I can do the same, but maybe you’ve changed enough for me to… to _try_.”

Wells looked from his hand to his face before accepting it.  He held on with a strong grip, but did not try to rip his arm off or tear his hand apart.

“I am sorry,” Wells said, not breaking eye contact, “for what I have done.”

An apology was not going to bring Barry’s parents back.

 _But it was a start_.

~::~

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> *Vampires were inspired by this image I saw on Tumblr: http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/post/146153050193/ewidge-he-burrows-the-stories-of-vampires  
> *A direct quote from Trinity Blood: Rage Against the Moons, Volume I: From the Empire by Sunao Yoshida, p. 102.  
> *Crusniks are a creation of Sunao Yoshida. To learn more, please read his Trinity Blood book series, read the manga, or watch the anime – all called Trinity Blood. I find crusniks to be very fascinating.  
> WARNING: The next chapter does contain vague scenes of violence and rape.


End file.
